(September 2022. One of the happiest times of my life, hunting hot springs in Idaho with Waldo, no worries about money or anything else for a brief window of time. Cute little poem written at a perfect hot spring I won’t name, because I promised I wouldn’t tell people about it. It was a really good one.)
My legs warm to hot I hop
Out of the pool onto the rocks
To my things I think to grab a drink
Of water like a red pen in my hand
Writing and I and everything else flowing with
The blood in my hand flowing from the same heart
As the hot heavenly volcanic water springing and steaming
From inside Idaho the heart’s heat outward warm
And cooling and warm again with a squeeze deeper than life
Even the cool creek cricking and crashing the same water
Remember the same water the same blood you and I
Water carving gently through time desiring to love
Along the length of an everlonging rhyme
Which sometimes sings slowly on gentle slopes of now moving
And sometimes now rushes down a steepish drop of rock height
Dimensionally tilting reality to speed up water rushing louder
The moment of more muchness a now to move through
A never-passed passing through this rapid moment of always
Coursing always this way, of course always comes this way
But who is to say what we’ll be downstream?
Beatin' Paths ~~~ The journey to the Great American Novel 