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Volume I, Number 2 (Summer 2007)
ISSN 1934-4324

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NEW-CUE, Inc. is a non-profit, environmental education organization founded primarily to assist writers and educators who are dedicated to  enhancing  the public's awareness of environmental issues.




Robert M. Chute

Born near the Chute River, Naples, Maine, 1926. Father an inn keeper, mother a grade school teacher. Veteran (non combat) USAF WW II. Education: Fryeburg Academy, U. Maine (BA Zoology, 1950), The Johns Hopkins School of Hygiene and Public Health (ScD Parasitology, 1953). Taught and conducted research at Middlebury College, San Fernando State (CA), and Lincoln University (PA) before returning to maine as Chair of Biology at Bates College. Prof. Emeritus Biology, Bates College. Scientific publication in Parasitology, Hibernation Physiology, General Biology, Environmental Studies. Poetry and collage poems in many journals including Ascent, Beloit Poetry Journal, BOMB, The Cape Rock, Cafe Review, The Literary Review, Texas Review. He was also awarded the Maine State Chapbook award for Samuel Sewall Sails For Home. Beloit Journal's Chad Walsh Award for the poem, "Heat Wave In Concord." Other poetry books include a three language reissue of Thirteen Moons in English, French, and Passamaquoddy (2002).


The Lonely Fig

From where they sat in solitary shade
there was no other tree in sight.
The cloudless evening sky forecast
a freezing night despite the desert day.
At dark they¹d have to walk for warmth,
the only fuel left was their only shade.

They¹d walk due west for half this night,
with Polaris on their right, passing
tracts of broken asphalt, wrecked machines.
Perhaps they¹d find more trees out there.
If not they¹d walk back by dawn, with
Polaris on their left, eat a fig, and rest.

There was still some fruit on this tree
they had defended to the death.
They'd rest, turn, as the shadow turned,
as a clock's hands turn compelled
by springs and gears unseen. Here
where there was a garden years ago.




The story runs
through generations
old moonshine poured
from jar to jar
retold by the fire¹s
flickering light
whispered by the dying bed
sung softly to
 the cradle¹s rocking
so much repeated
so much unsaid
a word misplaced
a line misquoted
the same old story
no matter how things change
the same old story
always new
hope they say eternal and
once upon a time...








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