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



The Soil Turning...

A bear climbs out from a child’s mouth…
Three peasant miners look on from horseback.
Six accords drop and sprout below the canopy of the grass.
Their arms flail and disperse into broken mists of yellows and reds.
The infant oaks interlace and grow as water softly breaks from their sides.
The cancer digs in deep; the miners look on; A phonograph needle dances at the end of a record
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