Outlaw

Following unmarked paths, little trace of someone been here before, covering tracks just in case. Coyote knows, howled the universe into being long time ago, took this one here, that one there, by the hand, one on one up in starry eternity unaccompanied by civilization or law.

Some came back shaman with the news, some got destroyed, all went mad. People gathered, drawn like magnets into villages, towns, laws and justice. Second hand the word got out in rituals of memories, second hand the people grew into cities and high rise grand metropolis and the word got out in wires and transmissions, in music with big beats of memories calling deep feelings into wired up ears, all second hand, as coyote laughs.

Following unmarked paths, even though fruits of civilization are so sweet, silks and satins, golden brandy in pink glass goblets, leatherbound books, soft easy chairs. Following coyote madness while swooning under moonglow moments of romantic yearning. Leaving paved and proven byways of humanity to scramble over thorns and rocks of unveiled existence, hoping to bring back a souvenir, simple declaration of mad outlaw journey.