And by the light of the moon, a match is struck and the tepee of logs laced with wishbone twigs, sunburnt leaves and gas station paper towels, breathes life. Out-of-Doors (outdoors) I seek Re-Creation (recreation) contemplating why Evil spelled backwards is Live, why we build cages around ourselves: the suburban box called home, the automobile windshield, the door frame, forms of imprisonment rather than housing. Our lives domesticated, predictable, routine, filled with lines and follow the leader. What does it mean to live in open air, to swim when one wants to swim, to explore trails unknown, to look at a shelving of rocks as best of friends, to be worried only when drinkable water is in short supply. Perhaps it would be wise to spend more of our days and nights without walls obstructing the heavens. To view the hammock smile between silouhetted trunks, Live Oaks swaying to the sound of river waves glazed in moon sparkle gulloping with every lick of the rocks, cedar burning orange with blue fingers caressing the purifying exhale of smoke, warmth given in exchange for attention. Everything perfect and purposeful in its exact place, without concern for external rewards, spontaneously and with total commitment.
Smoke burnt face opposite sun scorched back, the pen refuses to sleep. The evils of this world echo in my mind: modern day cannibals in Mexico, crack addict with fake breasts paid for by a government check, fishermen that slit throats, vietcong holding razor bladdes like playing cards. Life dispensable when money, drugs, or secrets at stake. He said he had dreamt of me on this very cliff. A sarenghetti skyline, trees, rocks, stars, a mocking bird, silk veil covering the moon. 15 years with out a house, living in the woods, eating his own meals, a card carrying KKK member, one time heroin addict, California lifeguard, telephone-wire fixing, cab driving, pot smoking, vietnam vet, hippie nudist who worked the oil fields and shrimping boats, now chasing after "his girl" he met a year ago at rainbow. 18 hours from Florida, he swims like a fish. In these tough times one needs someone to love....
Sunday, May 3, 2009
This is Why I Keep the Adventure Machine
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