2023, after the rain at Black Rock,
already past Gerlach on County Road 34, north.
not far from Winnemucca, as the crow flies
- you know.
In the bottom of a no longer dry shallow lake.
The People of 10 Principles are dealing with weather.
I feel for the fearful, and pity them a bit,
but the world is in a novel state, bhering up
under the worth of eight billion plus of us,
to leave the system behind, out grow the terminii,
for a time,
loose the future on the past, for a week,
with no choice of your own,
overriding the ten principles of the community.
Today, the dry lake
feels like a war zone, f'real
refugee reality chance, t'be with your self, to re-
imagine helplessness out of bounds,
with fidence, confess, the hermit swears
even fasting you can walk to Winnemucca, in three days.
It's eighty miles as the crow flies,
and all the waterholes are full this year.
But I got a pint of RSO and a box of toothpicks, so
I'd mud trod over to the nearest puddle,
and offer dabs to my neighbors.
This I'd call my gift, fret-less.
That's the essence of the whole experience.
Had I had the need to be radically included,
in an unsustainable urbanity exercise this year.
I'm too old to care, but I would treasure the experience Burning Man was,
this year, after rain I thoughtlessly asked for, fervently in August.