mount shasta is a pretty place

2004-06-02, 12:22 a.m.

last night i saw two pine trees dancing in the woods along mount shasta. One was anaemic, and had barely enough bark to keep its soft innards from the setting sun. the other had branches that clung on tightly and carried the ill pine through the hallways of trees, and there was no sound from them, only my foot steps pounding on the asphalt pathway; one two, one two

along the way i saw no ground, only an endless cover of dead needles that were aged from suffocation and malnourishment, and a dotted pattern of pine cones, whose seeds lay still born amoung the brown sea. i could have stayed, and i could have lived with the silence as a momentous soundtrack to the incidious apathy that clung to so many of these campers in their full sized suv's.

i am roughing it, out in the cold

i am roughing it, no CNN for three or four days

i am roughing it, no generators after 8 pm so i cant keep busy

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the one thing that stays the same is that burning feeling on my iris, from a campfire that creates so many confessions and maxims. camping will always be about the 10 pm campfire