THE HIDDEN TRACK

The following passages are dedicated to Leopold, to the vernacular, to certain evil women (you know who you are), to certain wonderful people(they know who they are), to soft afternoons and quiet Sunday evenings, to Fall and seeing your breath for the first time since Spring, and to Isabelle Ya Feng ... a soul slipped by like two ships passing in the still, moonlit sea.
-- Abraham Ahmed, the Surfing Beatnik



Thoughts on Words

There is no begining, there is no end.
Your words of unpopular and uneducated translation have come to create in me bothersome feelings. An itch, so to speak.
My face's become flushed and heated at the lack of renewable ideas - At the lack of deeper searching - At the lack of realness.
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