Riding the Dog

The dog pulled up the the station and

I boarded with  ticket to some nowhere

grabbed a window seat to watch a

world pass me by ready for the ride to

where “there” is just “here” with a “T”

which might be a “Y” in the road of

mismanaged unmanageable life

filled with too many deep valleys

to cross trying to get home.


Home to Tennessee? where

the sky shrouds your shoulders and

your head is swallowed by the clouds

or to Montana? where the sky

is too big to understand and your

head might explode with such

vastness of monotonous cosmic

possibilities where the uninitiated

can lose themselves forever

or to New Mexico? where I could

live 1500 years ago in the

ancient one’s kiva and discover

if the petroglyph’s gods really were

angels who came from another time

in magic flying ships and gave

knowledge about the workings of

stars and planets and nothingness.


I will ride the dog in my eternal

quest for meaning and place

a moving documentary

with no end to an endless

road of the wandering spirit that

cannot rest with words or

pictures and an end that is

not an end but always an

eternal beginning.

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