The Rhythms Of Wandering

Twilight scouting out another quiet place

Untying our knotted hiking laces

Calling of the morning birds

Arising slowly amid a trickling peace

Well-used wool sweater, safe and warm

Our old dog, thick and furly

Quiet Fall mornings strung like amber beads

The warm smell of crusty new bread baking

Simple joy of your soft brown eyes

Breathing gently through restful sleep

Catching sight of forest dwellers

Changing tools and rhythms to make them better

Sloughing off our unused burdens

Sensing the complicated in the simple

Sleeping deeply in big tree shadows

Hearing small creek again as we awaken

Freed at last of choking specialization

Coming slowly together with the dawn,

Neither at work nor on vacation

Traveling widely yet always home

Mending socks and fixing breakdowns

Finding water and planning meals

Picking up yet another’s trash

Retiring early, safe in the darkness

Drying happily in a sunny breeze

Looking forward to our own cooking

Watching bees work on autumn flowers

Lingering where we really like it

Sipping wine and making music

Vagabond Koans (2)

A Sierra Weekend

struck me as quite amazing

almost made me stop and think

took that moment between two breaths

to come back to good common sense

………

under strict orders they toiled thru the days

driven on by critical deadlines

lives anxious with meaning, lay awake at night

moving holes from one spot to another

………

lovely turnout with short trail to the overlook

stepping free of the vehicular cocoon

attaining the uplifting vista point without a real effort

satori moment digitally marked and the soft drink can

………

in battered cars they roam in old and dirty clothes

living off the fruitful grace of the land

shitting where they sleep and moving on again

ugly, old and noisy children, left out on their own

………

full of piss and vinegar they come

loudly announcing a strong and musky presence

breaking branches and dropping rocks

young men stride the forest like your average mall

………

stream that cut rock a million years

spoke to me for just one moment

telling me the entire story

and I could merely sigh in wonder

………

Far away even before they leave

Recreation quickly once more forgotten

Blur of packing and fast driving

On an almost Monday, once again

………

We moved between sunlight and shadow

the river changing sides

While another afternoon gave way

As that autumn passed on by

Vagabond Koans (3)

The Hi-tech Seaside Ratrace

Tearing out fenceposts and chopping down billboards

Overturning gas pumps and upsetting microwaves

Throwing down cell androids and smashing new iPhones

Dreaming again, I awake feeling refreshed

………

The president is to address the nation

Mass media picks up the proper sound bites

His makeup is good and his tie is correct

Well he delivers those choice words of others

………

Fierce Renaissance corporate Amazon

Hard-driving executrix /Slash/ loving mother

Stalled in traffic with her electronic organizer

sips on her strong espresso thru a chiseled face

………

Feeling bottom, standing up, pitching over in a splintering crash

Spuming wall of white water rolls

Vaporous hissing rush up the sand

Another swell has arrived

………

Making rapid progress towards goals as yet unspecified

Hypnotized by the grand illusion shared by the hive

Ever storing up even more saved up time

Constant acceleration towards eternal oblivion

………

Cypress lapping predawn fog

Sound of waves from left to right

Silence oozes through the background

Time to be ready to be free

………

Master of the universe in yet another silver BMW

Possessed of many exotic baubles he cannot understand or afford

In an endless marketing loop of material-based self-actualization

Considers the smog-encumbered sunset, stalled again on the freeway

………

Snoring loud enough to wake us up

Deaf beyond alerting us

Farting and dream kicking the nights away

Dear old dogs, we love them so

Vagabond Koans (6)

Embajada

in the dark I rise then stumble

          in the coolness I need coffee

dogs snoring brings on the morning

          at last I can douse the light

………

searching for the source of the smell and sound of sea lions

          cleaning fish on the beach for the seagulls

staring for minutes on up through the velvet Milky Way

          blissfully alone where the desert meets the sea

………

rounded cove with the longest sandy beach

          a crescent swell foams left and right 50 yards to shore

sea lions and pelicans make a living out beyond the break

          not a single house and no one else upon the rough road

………

church bell rung by hand at 6

          cool among dusty whispering date palms

dented noisy work truck

          roosters crowing once again

………

reduced to large head and shrunken body

          well-versed in all tavern subjects

spreading his tired message from within the bottle

          the old man Bernie holds forth from his barstool

………

swirling up into a headache

          dry dirty mouth and sickened stomach

sore all over, skin reeking of some stale liquor

          once more he knows it won’t ever happen again

………

cutting up the earliest morning colors into narrow strips

          she hangs them out with her laundry

they dry fading in the sun

          she opens window and pulls back the drapes

………

these putas are all whores except for my mother

          they should all fuck me but my wife must be faithful

all these young schoolgirls look so good in their little uniforms

          keep your filthy eyes off of my baby daughter

Vagabond Koans (7)

Return to a Reality

making music, sipping tea and reading books

eating healthy, staying calm and sleeping well

walking early and feeling fine

the tragedy of marijuana

………

gathering of the requirements

water boiling on the gas

waiting cup steams and steeps

the portable warm glow of green tea

………

heading back at last

almost out of sights to see

weather keeps on getting colder

there is still this place called home

………

village lights twinkling far down the beach

waves come up with morning tide

fog on mountain as fishermen prepare

rooster to wake me before the dawn

………

salt residue left by the fog

dust layers mixing on every window

scraps of paper and lint on floor

details I grew pleased to ignore

………

ragged shirt and dirty shoes

wild hair and untrimmed beard

moving our snail house upon our backs

fitting somewhere into Mexico

………

up before the sun

cool desert wind blowing

the sound of wind chop far below

last day upon the Baja

………

new trailers and powerful pickup trucks

camp gizzies and play toys unfolded and erected

safe food brought from home

bow again unto the weekend holiday happy camper