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



Vladd and the Woodlands of Comstock...

Hear, oh savage lands and foregrounds 'neath every man's feet as I challenge you with this: I, and all I bring, am the night and the senses she carries. Will you not reap your sewn rows and will you not gather together the fruits of your weary labor? For lo! Standing before you this night I beckon, reasoning with charactor alone...
Burning embers in fire dwell,
As thieves pass in covers of night.
Leaving hero's souls to tell,
Tales in themes of wrong and right.

Vladd sits high in tower above,
Concrete in mind; unwilling to talk.
As gallows swing the lover's love,
A cantor sings a weary Comstock.

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