"Do you suppose they will choose to make war against lean, solid dogs rather than against fat and tender sheep?"
For the looted, stripped minivan on my favorite backwoods hike, sung to the tune of "The Sound of Silence": "Hello Honda, my old friend.I've stopped to gawk at you again.Some tweakers brought you up here joyriding,Jacked you from the the Skyway Burger King,With a 308 they put you down when you ground out here,Like a... Continue Reading →
To the tune of "My Favorite Things"* East German jackboots and green Czech suspenders,Norwegian trousers for snowy weekenders,Bundeswehr base layer, Steppentarn scarf,On French army snow shoes I'll hike til I barf! Finnish boot grease!Swedish rucksack!From your grandfather's day.For ten lousy bucks you can buy it all upAnd head for the hills to play! *Acknowledgement to... Continue Reading →
I had my first encounter with one of the hill dwellers who, I'd been cautioned euphemistically, "isn't real social." As it turned out, we just ignored each other. I was taking a break at the side of the road, he was watering Some Kind of Plant Life 100 yards away, and neither of us acknowledged... Continue Reading →
The air here stinks with raunchy, hot freshness in our high, dry forest of fir and pine. For cumulus clouds we have mottled tufts of shadow and our water would burn fast into vapor if only we'd brought some. The polychrome riot of lands where you dwelt visits these hills in a lesser palette, a... Continue Reading →
Perfume riot gags sinuses with ambrosia. Third neti today.
I cross the border Into the sunset empire, A stranger again.
Hmm, I guess not all modern English verse is like Sugar-Free Metamucil. "Spring," (Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1892-1950) To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with the redness Of little leaves opening stickily. I know what I know. The sun is hot on... Continue Reading →