The 1960s: A Lot Of

The Time Is Right To Mix Sentences With Dirt And The Sun With Punctuation And Rain With Verbs.

A Sombrero Fell Out Of The Sky And Landed On The Main Street Of Town In Front Of The Mayor, His Cousin, And A Person Out Of Work. The Day Was Scrubbed Clean By The Desert Air. The Sky Was Blue. It Was The Blue Of Human Eyes, Waiting For Something To Happen. There Was No Reason For A Sombrero To Fall Out Of The Sky. No Airplane Or Helicopter Was Passing Overhead And It Was Not A Religious Holiday.

This Morning I Saw A Coyote Walking Through The Sagebrush Right At The Very Edge Of The Ocean ― Next Stop China. The Coyote Was Acting Like He Was In New Mexico Or Wyoming, Except That There Were Whales Passing Below. That’s What This Country Does For You. Come Down To Big Sur And Let Your Soul Have Some Room To Get Outside Its Marrow.

I'll Tell You About It Because I Am Here And You Are Distant.

...what Makes You Older Is When Your Bones, Muscles And Blood Wear Out, When The Heart Sinks Into Oblivion And All The Houses You Ever Lived In Are Gone And People Are Not Really Certain That Your Civilization Ever Existed.