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I slide on those battered ASICs made leaning off the side of my hammock swinging trail side.

The feel of warm wet socks from the day before slipping unwanted inside a frozen shoe.

With the crunch of snow and clanging of spikes, like a herd of turtles we go stomping down that trail.

To hell with the world out there, I put mine in a pack for my shoulders to bear.

Follow that blaze and see what we see, surely one of us will have to pee three times before those shoes unthaw.

But for the glory of the view and the vibe pushing through we walk on with wet feet to the beat where the beer and the burger dwell.

Rejoice in the hops and grease while the warmth brings want for that cold trail.

Away from the hustle of town and into the gloom of the snow covered pines to lay our heads in nylon and down filled dreams.

To wake in the cold morning with that aroma of coffee and isobutane burning off that frosty brow.

We linger in the warmth of the puffy quilts knowing it's back to the grind of life at the end of that trail.



I sat and watched the river flow.

White puffy clouds rolled overhead.

A fish jumped, rippling the water.

"Damn I should be getting my pole wet," I said to the river.

The river doesn't care anyway, it just goes whether you eat her fruit or not.

I eat very little, truth be told, from that river.

Flowing chemical vomit water garnished with floating diaper bombs and glass shards lining sandy shores.

The fruit has gone bad.



Life's got me working like a beat dog these days.

All that time pissing in the wind when I was younger

Catching up to me now.

It's hotter than hell sitting here on this covered porch with no window to see or breath.

Inhaling cigarette tar and THC crystals as the eggs fry on the stove.

The wind does me no good when I'm spent on the weather.

Whether or not I become me again

Who knows these things

Just put on those shoes and toot that horn for 10 or 12.

All this plastic means nothing anyway.



Look at the sky beyond those trees

Who cares why it's there

At night it's the glow of fear

And the stars are unaware

The owl hoots on a cold morning

I slept like a log with mangy hair

The coffee was made

And I lay in a stare

Across the way

I knew then and there

But now I reflect on time gone

That cold grey cloud teasing solitaire

But I knew I must return

I had to be everywhere

All the while that cloud lingered

And it will never be fair.



My stomach turned on the brink of vomiting

Sound waves slapped my ears like tidal waves

The trees vibrated off the ground into the great sky

I asked the Wizard, "Why does everything leave?"

He said, "Wait. See what there is to be shown to you."

The Wizard carried his sack of sadness elsewhere among the trees

He said, "Wait. See what there is to be shown to you."

The Wizard carried his sack of sadness elsewhere among the trees

I sat with my arms hugging my legs, feeling the wind hug me like my mother once did

In fact, I was convinced it was her, and I embraced the love surrounding

I let it all out in that great Manistee dirt

The wizard was there to guide me to the belly of the truth

We had to face this together

I peeled myself off that dirt in search of that sad Wizard

No holding back for the world out there


Raymond Stanton is thirty-five living in a tin can in Indiana. Raymond works a bullshit job to pay bills. Most of their time is spent in the woods vibing with nature.

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