Unlike the

idiot masses

of mental

slaves,

I’m not limited

in my thoughts

and values

according to

the time and

place my body

happens to

inhabit.

Just recently

I’ve immersed

myself in

old-timey

“Hillbilly”

Life,

though I’m

a modern

Northerner

by birth.

(vicious fate).

Of course much

of the old

Appalacian

ways have

been destroyed

by the forces

behind modernity,

but I can imagine

a life of pure

mountain

air, log cabins

built a kingly

distance apart,

barefoot Ellie

Mays, and blue-

grass energy.

It’s just what my

city-soaked soul

needs. And while

I can only live

there and then

mentally

for now and

perhaps the 

rest of this life,

( or at least

until the aliens

agree to whirl

me back to 1893,)

in the

meantime I can

dream and play

those old

Appalacian

melodies

on my dulcimer

and stand atop my

solitary mountain

like a Sovereign 

looking downing

on a life that 

I could choose

to lead,

compete with a

a no-mortgage

log cabin, rows of

corn, and kids who

feel and

think like me.

(There’s no

generation gap

in a real society.)

And I’ll love in 

my mind that

mountain flower

of a wife

waiting in the 

bedroom with

a banjo on

her

knee.

 

— Fyodor Bukowski

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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