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



On Top of the Open...


Sequoias, pines, moss, manzanita, and soil of red clay veined with minute roots and dust from native relics.

A river stopping only for the sea.

Misleading iron pyrite shaded by tufts of yellow grass.

The crunch of shoes on rocks.

I was the first to travel here...

I swear I was.
Posted by

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)