Somewhere between here and Alder Creek
I lost that permanent feeling as if to say that thank god
finally all that really mattered was the haze out
over the gulch the way the mist settles into the pockets
of forest as would a small bird tender to the nest.
All that really matters now is the thick redolent oils of coffee
and hot milk and how I might crowd myself into the belly
of a burned out old growth and continue to cast spells and conjure
the dead might they come forth and explain some things that I still do not understand?
How the rushing flow of creek reminded me of making crazylove
after an X show
on a stranger’s leather couch in Mill Valley.
How I revolted against civilization and returned to this coven of
Watershed Pirateship Monastery
now
This celibate chatter finds no audience among the thicket of Manzanita
finds no smart quippy repartee with the raven’s wife who is too busy
protecting a coliseum of tangled twigs and glitter filled with 7 new off
Spring
I think the hyacinth are blooming now in the cemetery at Windy Hollow Road.
I see that the white caps have quit their tantrum and finally settled down,I heard folks can fish for salmon soon.
