The Path to No-Name Hermitage.
(Written in the style of my masters)
…
The path to No-Name Hermitage is steep
and winding
but is easy enough to find
Just follow the deer tracks
bear scat
and chattering mountain squirrels
Follow them up and away
far from city lights-
weaving through pine and manzanita
beneath the eyes of crows
and beside moss-covered rocks
Clouds hang on the peaks above
golden light spreading
on the heads of oaks
in the valleys below
Find No-Name Hermitage
and you’ll want to stay, too
If while descending the canyon
the melodies of an untuned flute
and the smell of woodsmoke
are in the air
you’ll know an old poet
is home
at his woodstove
above the stream
He may eat your food*
if you’re not careful
and his little dog is mean
but he’s quiet
and harmless
and would be happy
to share his wine
He talks to ghosts
beside the fire
mumbles to ancestors
and animals
writes a line or two
in his book-
Always trying to remember
what he’s forgotten
trying to unlearn
what he already knows
If you see his wife and children
in the market or shops below
tell them he loves them
he’ll be home soon-
he just has to sit a little longer
has to make sure
that the stream is still flowing
that the mists still gather
and drip from the trees
…
*Upon arriving in camp, I find a cache of food inside the woodstove. A half-opened can of refried beans, a bag of small potatoes, a can of some sort of carrot soup, and a roll of aluminum foil. As is so common in these parts, I assumed the food was left as trash from the night before. Come evening I cracked the can of carrots and started roasting potatoes…
About an hour after dark I hear voices, see headlamps descending into the canyon. I’m soon blinded as they discover me at camp. They’re shocked they’re not alone. In a sheepish voice, one says:
“Uh…did you see some food left here?”
My response from the darkness, as I’m holding back my snarling dog:
“I ate it.”
They look intimidated.
Disappointed whispers from the one in back:
“Dude, that was all our food…”
“Oh, I didn’t eat it all. Just two potatoes and half the can of the carrot stuff. I checked the beans but they didn’t look good.”
Silence.
“The rest of the food is there, take it. Sorry, but I had no way of knowing you were coming back. A lot of people leave trash like this.”
“Fair enough.” one says in defeat.
They gather what’s left of their food and walk off with their tails between their legs. I gave them a package of ramen and miso.
I laughed about this all night. Poor kids.
Oh, bravo, that’s good. This is the story you saved for a personal telling. I’m picturing a setting from The Road, without the violent desperation.
December 22, 2015 at 1:56 pm