I have numerous short stops that i make on most days at Twin Oaks. One of them is by Coyote’s room. We will chat about current community gossip and politics. He will ask me to get him another box of candles or a double cheeseburger with double onions. While in his room I often write a quick letter to Cassie ex, which he then completes and sends.
And sometimes, when i am lucky, he drop on me a piece of writing, a poetic bomb. Today was one such day. Coyote has been off the labor system for a while now and leads a quiet life mostly on the second floor of Ta Chai. He is an avid reader and writes to his favorite authors. He wrote to the poet and revolutionary Wendell Berry who sent him back the powerful poem HOW TO BE A POET (to remind myself). Which includes the lovely lines:
There are no unsacred places;
there are only sacred places
And desecrated places.
Coyote’s room is like a tiny gallery. He has copied pictures of the people important to him, famous or familiar. And is regularly rearranging these memories to suit his current desires. And tangled among these images are some of the most profound ideas of our time.