Contributor: John Ogden

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Couldn't breathe
Set off hiking
Had to get back to the trees.

Found old, familiar hill
Place where washed out rocks
Weathered by placer hoses
Make grooved hand-holds
Also, places to sit.

Found a home
Temporary
Just until dusk
Just long enough
To watch the sun set.


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John Ogden was conceived of a government form and a passing mailbox. He lives somewhere out in the woods of a rural land more akin to the fantasy realms of literature than real life, and his favorite dirt bikes will always be the broken ones.