We don’t get out to camp as much as we used to, or as much as we’d like to, but when we do—let’s just say that I really get this. Down to the soul.
…just click the link, and the pretty picture will make you smile.
Found this nice photo–very near where I used to live. Thanks!
When I was a kid, thinking about this guy used to keep me awake at night on camping trips–now he’s back.
How do you catch a Bigfoot? I’ve heard people trying to bait traps with big chunks of meat. I suggest a different form of bait. It always worked for me–and some folks have, ahem, noticed a certain resemblance….
this hacked down hemlock, splayed, cracked
giant jack the rippered from her feet,
locks left for slash while toes still grip
rock and loam and clay, slain at the ankles,
clenches my muddy witness fists, having
served first (for me) as landmark, then as shrine,
once as umbrella, even, once as guardian for a
two second, tight-lipped first kiss.
Now, at the end, she retires as teacher,
a wild fine rotting pre-pulp history volume.
See here, the width of this one thumb,
covers all my thread thin years:
twenty five narrow lines clearly document
the time spent blushing hope, sweating danger,
breathing love, fear, anger, and remorse.
I suggest to you, dear wondering stranger:
All we want is nothing, all we know isn’t much,
to be thus eclipsed, and by just a thumb.