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



Thirteen Steps; None Trodden...

It is all quiet in the midst of the population chattering and world shifting in its seat ... so long as your mind remains wrapped around an assured promise made.

I am still during the maddness casting its tiring net over my shoulders.

I am sound in desire as the images of Leopold the Insane, taking his seat for the hanging, groan fear into empty ears untrained to listen.