This rambling batch of poems is dedicated to the small, old mill town of Maynard, Massachusetts, the funky and accepting town where doors are bigger than houses; where friends are at every corner and cantina, which is our home.
And where most of these poems were born.
And to Windsor Mountain Summer Camp, the enchanted grove in the tangled woods of rural New Hampshire-which is our other home, our other place and our true world community built out of tolerance, truth and joy.
And, as always, to my wife Denise, our seven kids, and the unending dream of our lives in the red house with all the bikes.
And to you, whomever you are...
Thanks for reading.
Fitz
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Poetry