Review, Chelsea, The Hudson Review,Shenandoah, and other prestigiouspublications of the era, but he couldn'tget a book published, and this lackbedeviled him. His frustration also mayhave come from deeper sources. Thosewho knew him best felt one sourcemight have been his father, the once-famous novelist, translator, professor,and Zionist lecturer Ludwig Lewisohn,who had fathered James Elias withconcert singer Thelma Spear. Ludwighad led a notoriously unsettled life andcould be "quite overbearing,"according to Henry Braun, a Mainepoet who knew both Ludwig, who diedin 1955, and his son when the fathertaught at Brandeis University.

So, although his crime was one of themost shocking Portland has ever seen, toJim Lewisohn's friends it was not entirelyastonishing when, in the spring of 1974,after a night of drinking, he shot andkilled Roslyn, the bark of the gun wakingup two daughters in time to see him turnthe 9-millimeter pistol on himself as theirmother lay dying on the kitchen floor.

But he survived, and he was convictedof murder. The jury refused tobelieve his story that the shooting

was an accident, believing instead theyoung daughters who testified against him.In prison, he taught poetry, self-published several books (one entitledRoslyn), converted to the forgiveness ofCatholicism, got married to a Portland

Although his crime wasone of the most shockingPortland has ever seen, toJim Lewisohn's friends itwas not entirely aston-ishing when, in the springof 1974, after a night ofdrinking, he shot andkilled Roslyn, the bark ofthe gun waking up two~aughtersin time to seel1imturn the 9-millimeter~istolon himself as theirnother lay dying on the{itchen floor.

Surely, This Is OdysseusI have been away all daywaiting my turn.Surely, before the winter comes,which is inevitable the Buddhists say,I will travel. I will seethe one thingI have been waiting fora beginningnot the same unholy

unprofane.

And if this were soI would not wish upon the evening staror learn the Ugaritic word for lovenor bend the root for the rain in it

like the shepherd of this placeI'd give it up.

My friend the Janitorwho forgets my nameafter all these yearspolishing the same floors each daywho, after clean upsleeps till 5in a land of his own making.

I have seen him sleepingwith his broomsand saidsurely this is Odysseus.

He's collected centuries of paper

and never kept a word.

Through rows of Plato he goesas through thin airspeaking only of his need.

Backwards backwardsto the darkened caveto voyages that gathered by surprise the sunrelinquishingthe mythsthe lexicographiesof love.

-Written by James Lewisohn in prison

woman, and had another daughter byher. Because of jury prejudice, he wasgranted a new trial; for the second time,he was convicted of murder.Paroled in 1984, divorced, he spent

several years at the Bangor TheologicalSeminary, obtaining a master's of divinity.He already had a master's from the JewishTheological Seminary in New York,where as a young man he had studied tobe a rabbi.

He couldn't find a place as a priest oreven as a monk."They put the mark of Cain on

me," he says in explanation on thephone from his small apartment inBar Harbor, where he has lived formany years."I live alone with a little dog. I have

no friends. No work, of course."

He stopped writing poetry a longtime ago. He survives on SocialSecurity and a small pension

from the university. He spends histime "walking the dog, meditating,and going to Mass." He adds: "Myfaith is weak."

He has not seen his children byRoslyn since the trial. They wereadopted by a family who, he claims,"brainwashed" them. He saw hisyoungest daughter only twice, yearsago. He is still a very frustrated man.

He explains the crime now as "analcoholic blackout."And it cannot be repairedThe way you mend a chair ...He wrote those lines before he

killed Roslyn, in a poem entitled"The Suffering.""I don't think I could have been more

punished," Jim Lewisohn says, crying.-Lance Tapley

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