Woodcut

From the archives- Shingletown, Ca 4200′ Winter 2006

Sub wing of blacktipped wing snow geese been hangin round up here at night

mostly their cries are different than those of the standard dark gray Canadians-

they’re more high pitched more screechy and sporadic/staccato

can tell it’s them without looking up

Woodcut:

full moon

outline of firs thick along the ridge

elbow of snow geese

in foreground

between the rising moon

and treeline

Salt lick of the Eschaton

like a rabbit, but bigger another matter of who’s this? and who’s that?

observations from the sub-leased Forest Service Lookout Tower(tm)

hacked into fire season containment lines

and the 1.6 deg faren rise in the next 45

will equal 50% more bad air

for The West

hows that for “emotional science”?

after the bubble burst

I decided to sleep in

Fountain Pen of the Revolution or And Maybe the World Smaller

I think I’ve mentioned this before, but every night the sun sets orange over the Coastal Range- fairly predictable yet still spectac. Then the bats come out, which I’m more than cool with and maybe the trash burning- down- aways -neighbor’s peacock is sounding off-

but that’s not writing that’s just a snapshot

why not add mystery and mood, Like Thomas Kinkade – Master Of Light(tm)?

anyway, time to go Off Road

Countdown to America-Land of the Free-For-All

Post Championship Riot Lockdown Stepped up Holiday Mounted Wholesale Detachment

What happened in the last five(5) years?- the sheer volume of people everywhere

or am I just noticing in super slow-mo?- like those soft lit Bavarian Christmases, all over again, but this time, endless sad hordes of lowered Suvs with spinning rims and thin tires,as well as, tons of  others,all parked in the woods and along the sides of the narrow forest cottage path like you’ve never seen anything like it

and they’re all crazed- trying to squeeze something out of the air-time and place all at the same frenzied instant which doesn’t work and even more is lost

back in the mid-late July afternoon the Canyon winds mercifully picked up. blowing East

with some cooling effect

so that even in the aftermath of all the broken and damaged Independence Parades sputtering out amidst the near distant soft echoes of  silly explosions

and all the poisoned corpro-traditional national food binges and poorly choreographed goosestepping internment reenactments

within the Homelandz of all the Bob Lazzar’s who could ever be out there

Moods were lifted

lyrics for a song

There’s an old woman sitting in a cottonwood grove

says “You gotta a lotta songs, but can’t sing a note”

and she says”there’s an underground river flowing below right where we stand

It’s ain’t got no fish, but that’s not part of the plan

Come set with me awhile, and we’ll find the time

To listen to the winds in the Aspens chime.’

there’s a shaved headed kid with a bobbed bedded four wheel drive

say’s”If I put ‘er in low I can climb to the sky”

And now the moon chases the sun and this Earth used to be flat

A lotta people collect guns, but still don’t ” have each other’s back’

Got a fixed blade navy seal survival knife as seen on the cable Tvs

and some bare land up in Montana, where I just step outside to go pee

got my bug out bag packed and silver coins all in a row

but to get away from ourselves, there isn’t that far to go

Squalor in the Holler

shock(but not appalled), amazement at the Miracle, Think it’s warmly very funny

how this Earth circles the Sun, How Life and Love are intertwined

like county/state taxes and snowplow services up in Modoc for and by example

nobody, too weird, should have left home, especially in this Heat

but then you’ll miss all those Summit Sunrises and New Bieber charity Carwashes

it’s easy to stay within California, it’s a big fucking place by all Standards

cherry chocolate porter please

sounds good from here the words for their own sake populate the page – that doesn’t even physically exist unless asked to

round table square peg surragate unknown others

brought to the the Light, by and for the Light

and the temporal shadows of Live Oaks

Port Orford Cedar confiscation by wax moon night lite

Shinto temple priests and Flamenco gunslingers

all favor the same Wood

“hey and there’s no sales tax too . . . !!”

probably don’t really need grade schools anyhoot

can just go Abroad(tm)- like BraveHeart

or was that Dreadlocked Tom Hanks and his Bamboo raft again?

haunted by that Pacific Coral Image in the Full Sun

always subjects to return too,

always a place to head home too

under the radar- a factor of O’riley n’ Gang

Beat the heat- Down on the Farm_ everybody’s got- Their own Song

The end of time-Or a new Home Shopping Craze–It outta be a crime-To not carry the Weight in these latter daze

Ontario two stepp Boreal latitude adjust and do yerself a favor

why bother even when no one’s looking

and the snake charmer pulled out all the stops- crops encircled- doves at peace for once-near the Outer Hebberdies

crazy shit

Get yer bugout bags(tm) here- got yer escape plan- or just gonna sit tight and lay low till the fleeing hordes pass by then bust out the freeze dried ultraviolet sharpies