The Trackless Path

You have no idea how little I care about your sprockets, Nor how fast I can turn ‘em out on your machine. But the whole big thing might matter just a little If I could only see the woman smile As she rolls her window down. Then perhaps, I’d care, just a little. Maybe it would help me believe  That all of this means something. But I can’t see past the metal Nor the wheel that turns the days around...

I am a paradox. I have been since my youth. Wherever I go, I do not fit. I do not fit with the higher-ups. I do not fit with the lower-downs. And yet, I kind of fit with the higher-ups Until you get to know me better. And I kind of am a lower-down When see the place I live. I am more comfortable with those Who are lost or on the fringes, At least for a while, Though I don’t imbibe In the liberties...

Dome Valley - a tiny warmth within highlights the sign That marks the turnoff from the southbound highway. But I don’t turn. I keep going toward a familiar metropolis. And the next morning I find out that the person I seek Is half an hour East. That is further than I thought. I board the interstate and drive. The suburbs stretch out Mile after mile,  But then begin to thin As I rise, rise, upon th...

A note to myself: The vital thing is to publish.  To finish. And if that’s the goal,  Then the writing will bend itself to that aim. It is a strategy for those of us who get lost along the way.

I am back out on the BLM, A few hours, a night. I had forgotten how peaceful. The stark difference strikes me. It could be the ocean, Or a mountaintop, Or an empty grassy plain, It would be the same So long as it was wild and unclaimed. It’s so much easier here. A place that nobody owns. I knew a man who lived far out on the BLM Where no one would notice. Perhaps this is why. I need this, My famil...

You don’t have to denounce your past  To embrace your newfound passion. They are one thing in the end. And he who denounces  Will continue to denounce. But he who embraces it all with gratitude, Will be added upon forever and ever.

The children of light are of one tribe To spite their varied persuasions.

I have found that people often have conflicting goals That they do not care to notice. And since they want things to remain the same More than they want the change that will bring improvement, They do not make much progress. Once our goals are aligned We can move forward. Before that time, We must either face the contradictions Or eternally flounder and grow disenchanted with the process.

I leave early - before I become a nuisance.

The shadow and the pillar have moved again, and I move on, South, I believe, to the place that borders another country, It’s funny that after all of these years, I still tremble and feel insecure.

What if we decentralized our corporations Not because of government mandates,  But because we want less headaches. And what if each factory worker went home And operated a cottage industry  That cooperated with a central idea - a central brand. What if we shared the brand. I did that once. I cooperated with a friend. I manufactured certain products. He manufactured others. And we shared the same b...

What if the higher-ups Gave the enterprise away to the lower-downs? And what if the lower downs  Decided, out of gratitude, How much to pay the higher-ups? Not a rule. Not a law. But a personal policy On the part of those who have To be the servants of all And a personal policy  On the part of the have-nots To not forget to feed the ones who gave their all.

What if we chose to trade instead of sell?

What if we renounced the corporation?

What if we found a way  To do business with  Actual others.

What if we could stop wanting what they offer?

What if we could walk away from papers? What if we could say no to the hoops They dangle before us enticingly?

What if we could do without money, At least for the most part? What if we could trade?

What if I never touched the things that flow through me? What if they skipped me altogether And landed in the laps Of those I love?

What if I were to step out of the system?

Black curtains separate me from the driver’s seat. Drive on, drive on, I say from the back of the limousine.  And my chauffeur decides the places I will be. I trust the driver enough to draw the curtains tight. Drive on, drive on, I say, Into the black of unknown nights. Drive on, old friend, you know me better than myself. And in the meantime, I will rest the rest of a forfeit life And rejoice in...

It’s not quite what you think. For that reason, we must listen closely To the still small voice. And trust That, sooner or later, it will all come together.

Hang in there. The answers are coming.

I wrote this while working as a transport driver for a funeral home. We were located in a county with a large population of indigent and transient people. My job was to go out into the desert and bring back those who had died in their cars or vans or camper trailers. Most would say it was gruesome work, and it was, but I loved it. It felt more like a calling than a job. And that was a common senti...

Don’t fret the things you’ve lost In obedience to the unheard voice. They will come back to you. In fact, they are already yours And you can find them through love And imagination.