in San Francisco... of memories of Big Sur 2011

Here on this ridge of my home...
Here on this ocean-wind beaten knobby twisted chaparral dense ridge…
My only company is this hawk... this hawk whose company is so aloof...
Is so hard and uncaring…

This creature of the rough dangerous wind…
This wind pushing hard high up here…
Here high above this our canyon.
She shrieks sitting in the first morning sun …
Sits swearing at the world…
Swears enforcing with ferocity her territory…
Swears at me…
Swears at me…because I stand here within it.
I don’t care. I do the same silently.
I live here finished…
Finished with the civilized world.
I did the time… I did the custody…
I was ready…
Now I have been released.

I could not live smothered by society anymore. I could not color between the lines anymore. I cut loose… I let myself go… I behaved as I wanted… god… as I damn-well needed to. Five squad cars took me off the freeway. It was a glorious fucking furious chase… for over forty minutes. I let them get me. I crashed… crazed... I was fucking wrecked… I hadn’t slept. I had robbed a string of Denny’s thru the night… travelling I-80 East… I wanted to get to Reno… I could sleep there.

How I love walking bad-ass up to the cash-register sure and true.
How I loved how reality cuts to the bone…
Cuts as I pull out the pistol…
As I point death point-blank into their insincere faces.
And how I love to pull away from that mess... to rocket away a bat out of hell…
So in control, so out of control…
Fast, fucking ferocious in my black five-speed, high-torquing, low-hung Lexus.
Watch out…
Watch-out you lard-assed SUV driving turds.
The road is mine.
How I love going ninety-five.
Out of my way… you fatuous bourgeoisie imbeciles…
How I love to blow-by your inane christian asses.

Ya, I get so fed up with your fears and your posturing arrogance. I am great when danger pushes me against the wall. I like being fierce, sharp, true. I like pushing hard running wild on danger's edge.

I’m a loner, and when the job, the life, the pretexts
Suffocate me, I move on over the horizon.
And when the ass-kissing innocuous world of acquiescing…
Nearly sucks the ever-loving fight out of me…
I pull out my pistol. Ya…
I take my fun for as long as I can…
Run. I know it is back to prison.
I can wait the time out well enough.

Prison is a place where poison slithers
Where poison stalks... stalks ready, waiting to strike.
Prison is a place where danger brings me to a steely, self-reliance I do cherish.

Now free like the hawk…
I defend my silent focused oneness…
My solitary fusion…
A fusion with that raw divinity…
A oneness with this hawk…
With this hawk whose wilderness we watch over...
This wilderness this hawk draws her passion from.

I am done with all… all but unpretentious simple naturalness.