When you walk into the expanse, keep going. Maybe you’ll meet a dwarf at creekside. Maybe a bear. If you do, you must speak respectfully and listen closely to the reply. Even if they call you a yokel, as Kokopelli did.


A dust storm — sandstorm — and they close the highway.

You must wait. Cover your mouth and eyes.


On high ridges, bachelor Basque shepherds follow their flocks all summer. Each one and his dogs rarely encounter anyone who speaks Human.


Wilderness is about clouds, too.

Now what were you dreaming?


Guides do appear. Sometimes among fellow practitioners. Maybe even your landlord. Or Kokopelli.


“Who’s standing on my head?” a totem pole figure wonders.

Just like a typical office.


Blinking in my field of karma, the reminder:


It’s not the first time.

Be faithful and wait.


Sometimes a lover becomes a place you want to enter.

Sometimes one’s the space the other envelops.


Where would I have been without her in that desolate expanse?


For more insights from the American Far West and Kokopelli, click here.


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