the separation of mind and body the divorce of flesh and spirit one soars one trudges along

my man pete he says walking right in front of me we’re in the drudgery of lockstep one foot after another begrudgingly stepping up grunting with the strain of each movement the afternoon sun lashes at our backs some long ago egyptian master whispering to his subjects telling them how worthless their pathetic little lives were not a cloud in the sky offering protection not a tree providing shade just the granite rock face still pissed that some cadre of inner city poor folks drafted into the youth conservation corps some youngsters of color with picks and axes and a little dynamite the arming of the next insurgency these boys had carved steps into her smooth thigh my man pete he says

fuck

my man pete he says pausing to take off his wide brimmed hat and wipe his brow a festus of our times taking a breath long slow breath gazing out at the wide expanse of manzanita steeply above and sharply below our path the faint roar of a creek flush with the snow melt teasing us with her cool knowing such a cunt she is my man pete he says

might be getting too old for this shit

i nod my acknowledgment too tired to comment too much in agreement to argue we’re both pushing fifty hell my man pete a year ahead of me how about that cocksucker see you in hell i wonder though i imagine there is some moment one slight second of clarity where we pass over into old age

the drives home are usually quiet dwelling fuck maybe even thoughtful this one no different dwelling on the trek the hard parts up that hard fucking scrabble old pharaoh’s ra whipping my ass through the bonfire the hard parts fading away the good parts lying naked on a rock in the middle of an icy lake at nine thousand feet sharing a stream with my one and only favorite oldest son whispering secrets to the trees stroking my cock on the side of a cliff a thousand feet up declaring my love the good parts sinking in

thoughts of home wherever the fuck home is these days home is where the heart is my heart so dark at times dark with despair dark with anger dark with a burnt crisp edge i was miserable then i am miserable now someone please kick me in the head ‘splain me the difference show me show me how the two plus two thing all comes together in my head adding up to three five and seven use a goddamn horseshoe kick me hard

i can’t merge the then and now
lose weight now
ask me how

home is where the heart is where i lay me down to sleep where i pray the lord my soul to keep i wish i may wish i might suckle a nice supple tittie tonight

down highway one twenty down out of the sierras across the plateau it’s pre apopalyptic pulling around a wide curve piles of timber stacked in huge triangles reaching halfway to zeuss’s knees covering hundreds of acres of flatland tremendous towers on either end of each pile spraying water the lumber steaming smoking i can’t tell i can’t smell nothing but the rich aroma of cut wood of the mountains of sawdust sitting beneath elephantine aluminum spouts stretching across the yard some flintstones meets tim burton distribution network of dry chipped afterbirth

a train track runs through it

all the way back to halifax in virginia the local lumber yard the sawdust piles going up up up big as a house big as a barn big as the bank building on main street us little barefooted rednecks wearing cutoffs probably no shirt dog days of august we climb scramble up those piles make our way up to the pointy top we jump down down down we land on our feet we dive we do flips we land sink below the yellow fluff explode out as if emerging from water lungs blasting burning

richard holt tells the story some of the older piles some of the larger ones if you sink too low beneath the surface you’ll find yourself in the permanent fiery hell which resides at the heart of them all set afire by friction and heat and dinosaur bones and the occasional visit from puff the magic dragon we gang up on richard playing king of the hill burying him deeply within the powdery sea he doesn’t burn we commence to throwing off everyone else i am king for a moment standing like rocky on the museum steps before being dragged down by the ankle drew johnson ascending to the throne 

we are strong young pre-pubescent men boys with hormones exploding the world wide open before us we fear no evil we are strong we are brave we will kill nazis and commies and indians and anyone else who threatens our mommas and grandmommas and sisters our destinies are not yet spoiled by our cocks

my man pete he takes off his wide brimmed hat wipes his brow he says

might be getting too old for this shit

later we sit on a wide rock sliding into piute creek she who rumbles rolls bubbles and whirls down the mountain so hurried so rushed until she bursts into a froth and foam and lay still the after glow of a furious fuck on the rocks deep motionless pools of cool satisfaction i strip naked and slide inside i am fine with sloppy seconds she caresses my scalp tingles my cock is useless i baptize myself in her contentment i sip of her blood i am rejuvenated a silver fuck me floats about my throat

one and only favorite oldest child he is twenty now he is no longer a child he is a man he strips off his shirt his chest is broad and cut his arms long and sinewy and muscular his waist narrow he is david on my pedestal pride swells up i love him in his perfection he dances across the edge of the small waterfall freshly melted snow rushing across his ankles i want to call out tell him to take care but i don’t then i do because i can’t help myself minutes later i cross the line again declaring his shin to be burned he should put on sunscreen cover up his friends are around he is prideful too he rolls his eyes he flips me off with a laugh and a grin

he and his friends having just come off the trail hiking up and over piute pass with the sun blazing on their youthful shoulders they had forgotten their tent one and only favorite oldest son had lost his sleeping pad he lamented more the fact however that he had also lost the bottle of jack daniels that he had so carefully packed wrapped up in his thermarest they come upon us upon me and my man pete just as we were sliding into the pool they drop their packs strip down to their shorts

youth how modest

took to the chilly waters fetus to womb they splash they play like the children they still are beneath small waterfalls innocent of the beauty around them today is but another day and they have a million more before them i am jealous of these days i envy the life they have in front of them i am glad i don’t have to do it all again

i have loved and i have love and i will have love and

right now sitting here with favorite oldest son kicking back on a rock resting gently on the thighs of the goddess herself basking in her glory on top of the world and all that i see is good

i am happy

most of the times

i nap on the rock and dream of sleeping

i feel the water drying on my skin leaving a slight glycerin feel smooth and taut the hairs on my legs and arm soften and my bowels tingle sweet memories of this morning’s fecal ablutions

waking with a stiffness waking with a stiffy

the dawn’s light poking it’s head over the precipices that guard this little valley this green slice of cunt bursting with life the early chill strikes my nostrils i shiver a full body tremble that flows to the gut i crawl from the warmth of my bag slip into my crocs sip thirstily from my water bottle grab the roll of paper and climb the hill behind camp up through the trees looking for my spot that place where i’ve never squatted but will call to me as i draw near whisper to me

hey over here

and so she does a large outcropping coming out of the hill a smaller flatter one before it a gap in between there’s never been a more nobler throne with a flat rock i dig a trench a hole within the gap drop trou

assume the position

facing down the hill squatting before god and everyone i am yertle the turtle ruler of all that i can see and all that i see is beautiful and true i just gotta find my way there you know the turtles of course all turtles are free as turtles and maybe all creatures should be

i sing my song
puff all night long
as i take hits from the bong

i shit

pleasure tingles up through my legs a couple of fat black ants scurry up my calf it’s over quickly too quickly perhaps shit in a pit looks so differently from shit in a watery bowl i wipe with a bold swipe paper in pit cover it all with a couple of flat rocks cover it so well hell i hope i don’t pick this spot tomorrow it’s such a swell spot

the walk back is longer i get a little lost i have always loved a little shit in my adventures i guess i always manage to stumble home

so far

cool stream washes away the dingleberries even the hairs on my ass are soft and downy the afternoon gives way to evening the evening gives way to day we break camp it’s four hours to the top of piute pass it takes my man pete an extra couple of hours he finds a small detour a mission of mercy god looks after drunks and fools i sit atop the pass smoking half and halfs waiting not knowing whether to backtrack after him making two of us lost what the fuck we wait he shows up all is good we make our way down the pass i hate going down worse than i do going up

guess that can be said about a lot of things yeah

we make it down off the mountain we make our way into town into bishop we find burgers i have a prime rib sandwich we make plans to meet up in manteca mexican food from the valley beckons

the drives home are usually quiet dwelling fuck maybe even thoughtful this one no different

piute pass and all that

fortune can turn with the flip of a card

sitting on queens over tens will eye pull the card draw the boat does he does he not have the straight will he pull the card draw the line eye guess the only way to find out is lay my money down a wink and a grin eye’m in

baby eye came to play

she loves me she loves me not the petals on the flower grow like weeds eye’m lucy at the chocolate factory the only way to find out is lay down my heart on a plate with a knife and fork a hungry miz fortune she winks at me the minute eye walk in the joint she can see eye am a man of distinction a real big spender she puts index finger to pursed lips she whistles blows softly finger wiggles silently suggestively

do we ever really have a choice

you take the high road eye’ll take the low road path not taken the oh if only’s fuck that serendipity is my navigator reach a split in the road spit in the hand slap it follow the bigger loogie

every spiral has an on ramp an exit ramp

good looking so refined say wouldn’t you like to know what’s going on in my mind oh girl if only a frog had wings

interstate eighty exit four oh five easy off easy on as good a place as any a whim a notion perhaps some fleeting caprice maybe it’s the dairy queen sign stuck on a big ol’ pole forty seven stories high giving witness to the masses give me your tired your poor your sugar deprived ended up somewhere off cornhusker way corn syrup drive corn whiskey boulevard cornpone lane hominy grits with black pepper parkway shit eye just like her whole on the cob hot boiled and all buttered up

she is my sweet silver queen don’t you know

eye hold her in both my hands put my face right down in it nibble is too kind a word eye am a gourmand for her little silver pearls the streets just go and go this way and that we’re lost but we don’t care been driving all day long with a purpose now we’re just driving around with a dripping chocolate dip flick licking staying a step ahead of the melting swirl it’s the first week of october nineteen eighty two

lights on tall poles beckon us we drive through some neighborhood through some park it unveils itself to us the game the event the spirit of competition we are where we need to be

me and lazal

crazy fucking israeli absent without leave he tells me stories he tells me tales growing up on kibbutz working the farm communal living eating working sleeping the american girls coming over their blossoming jewish identity driving their desire to suck israeli dick fall in love with a hero he talks of getting out of high school joining the army training with friends with comrades firing guns jumping out of planes one day he gets orders he and his buddies ship off to the lebanese border they get the word they cross over there is shooting there is a great evil commotion

hell eye only worry about getting laid getting stoned

he gets a weekend off he’s done with playing army man the uniform doesn’t quite fit he buys a plane ticket he flies to his brother’s home in atlanta he decides he’s not going back eye meet him in atlanta eye’m driving across country eye need company he needs to get

lost in america

decisions we all make we make ‘em every day eye’m oh kay with that we have a six pack from the local quickie mart seven eleven whatever they call them here the beers stay chilled in the brown bag we pull them out one at a time twist off top the cool effervescence bubbling down our parched throats becoming tepid gaseous burps released to the evening we’re sitting back on the warm hood of the blue celica leaning back against the windshield the celica parked in the grassy lot right outside the right field fence

me and lazal

we been driving all day our hand wet on the wheel driving across america from atlanta gee ay before it became ay tea ell all the way to baghdad by the bay san francisco driving forever the horizon just keeps moving we just never seem to get there no matter how far we go we’re just as far away as when we began lazal passes me the joint eye pass him the cigarette we are young we are invincible we are too tired to give a shit a cool autumn breeze chills my bare legs the hairs stand on end

a soft thump

a white grapefruit floats lazily up up into the sky painted no awash with pinks oranges yellows reds tequila sunset floats up until it's lost in a landscape that just goes on and on a run on sentence broken up by commas and clouds big piles of cumulus nimbus fluffy cunt exploding on the horizon dripping blood menstruating coulda mighta been life back into the earth giving it one more go giving it another twirl a stocky young blonde in green shorts matching green and yellow jersey glides back from the infield into right looking over her shoulder her pig tails flailing falling from her green and yellow cap sails off behind her a little extra effort she speeds up the ball appears from the sky her glove goes up

a softer thump

she smothers the ball a couple of random cheers from the bleachers behind home plate we me and lazal we can't see them the people the cheering adoring fans the floodlights and the evening blend against the backstop mesh creating a fatter more lively more fluid version of some indonesian shadow puppet play a morality tale of what should be

an entire system of beliefs encapsulated within a chain link fence on a cool october evening

a few other cars parked nearby but not too close an older couple sit inside a seventies model ell tee dee it's it’s all euell gibbons wild hickory nuts purplish brown with white walls and a vinyl top further out on down toward the home run fence some college kids they sit in the back of a pickup truck in lounge chairs they have beers michelobs in their hands one he says he whoops

hey jackie nice catch

she does a little butt wiggle as she walks the ball in the inning over the side retired lazal he passes me the joint

eye pass him the cigarette

we watch the game absently we trade crude remarks about the girls in uniform they are uniformly stocky they’re not the california girls we seek the ones keeping us in the car for hours on end our mission our goal california here eye come right back where eye started from california dreaming oh california eye’m coming home hotel california kalifornia is druggy druggy druggy down by law right from the core eye’m a cracker from south georgia this is my first trip west of the mississippi and eye’m moving to california sight unseen

serendipity is my navigator

we’re trying to decide where we’re sleeping tonight do we keep driving we want to get to denver hang with my cousin a few nights do we grab some sleep here fresh start in the morning we come up with a thousand different arguments to support either side of the issue denver is six seven hours out across wide open country nothing but ay em radio late night preachers to keep our stoned selves company

eye want to grab a motel room hot shower brush my teeth watch some tee vee he doesn’t want to spend the money he wants to press on we compromise we’ll head out a couple more hours find a field to sleep in the game ends at some point one team wins one team loses the players walk off the field into the arms kisses of bystanding innocents jackie jogs back to the pickup truck hops in the cab they take off with a spin of tires in the dust

a loud metallic clack the lights fade to black

we get in the car we turn onto the road a road left right we don’t know spit in the hand follow the loogie we drive down a long street with neon and parking lots and nightclubs we pull up to lonely spot toward the end of the street a few people wander around we have a couple of beers we pay up we leave a tip

eye wonder if you were there eye wonder if we passed each other on the street eye wonder if our eyes met if only for a second if only for a moment eye wander

back into the blue celica we drive on down the road the moon at our backs the stars in our eyes a near future of some damp and chilly cow field in the cards we leave behind the evening nineteen eighty two

a left or right turn fortune can turn with the flip of a card

sitting on queens over tens will eye pull the card draw the boat does he does he not have the straight will he pull the card draw the line eye guess the only way to find out is lay my money down a wink and a grin eye’m in

baby eye came to play

the year twenty five twenty five if man is still alive maybe eye’ll go back to lincoln maybe eye’ll give it a visit who knows who the fuck knows

cross country and all that