When you enter the dunes, you leave the world as we know it. Sand becomes the land inverted and the sky grows closer and bluer. It’s our New England desert.
The sacred earth becomes revealed, stripped of woods and fields and never having been introduced to the temptations of building, pavement, and all its assorted electric paraphernalia.
Every now and then you see some kindred footprints pass by yours. Tracks of deer or maybe a coyote will, for a moment, fill your trail with ghostly mythic spirits. A hammer pounding in the forgotten distance across an unseen bay will drum some indigenous beat.
The four directions are coming home to you, to help you find your way.
TRANSITION TIME
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There is an uncertainly-attributed and possibly just Internet-created verse
in Japanese that we can learn something from nonetheless, in spite of its
suspi...
2 days ago

1 comment:
Hey, Greg! Can you record this one for the next THE COUNTDOWN? Let me know...
Thanks!
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