Written Notes @ Dauset Trails

January 10th, 2026

The following were scribbled in red ink as I pondered questions. Most are silly little musings, some are heavier contemplations. All of of the moment.

.

One goose comes at the clank

of the feeder, while the others

feign disinterest. They are use to

the lie. How long until he one

wises up.

.

Two by the cranking of feeder come and

once the food is dispersed the

mob invades, but the fool still

eats first.

.

Wild is tamed by food

a universal truth.

.

Darkened room for reptiles,

with lighted containers to

mimic natural habitats but are

mostly constructed for peeping of

human eye.

.

A wooden alligator, almost

ancient design, could be art but

is a safe way for kids to court

danger with the predator. Alive

in imagination as it should be.

.

North American wildcats,

ocelot, florida panther, bobcat,

lynx, mountain lion.

.

Wood paneled room reminds

me of old houses I used to

live in, supposedly country

rustic mimicry.

.

"Animal Trail," the sign says,

but its made for people

feet.

.

A zoo is a necessary evil.

.

Otter wasn't home, but is a

prison ever home?

.

Coyotes given room for pacing,

nervous tick as they think

about how best to start

their memoirs: in media rez

as prisoner in the livestock

war or at beginning, suckling

in some mud den only dreaming

of squad tactics.

.

I count and say out loud,

"Wow, there's four owls in

there." And the owls look on,

"Crowded isn't it?"

.

One big ball for bear to play with,

but would probably prefer

two smaller ones as snack

after devouring sniveling

man.

.

The bald eagle. Symbol of

American freedom, proudly

displayed as captive: irony.

.

Chicken Hawk, I can see why

Foghorn got his ass

kicked.

.

Deer are elusive, like poets,

and like poets killed for sport.

.

Georgia winter: windy, wet,

mid 70's, chance of y'all

and bless your heart. January

in Georgia is misery for jackets,

at least in Michigan its always

cold enough for one.

.

Dad instructs daughter on

nature of deer herd mentality,

she wants to see other animals

and snack on crackers, she's

maybe two. Dad tries to

draw interest to deer, calling

them shy, little girl reminds

him within her restlessness,

I'm only two.

.

Bison. Big fluffy cow. Boss

behavior.

M. Bison. Big tall dude. Boss

for real.

.

Whether Michigan or Georgia,

trees still toss out their

children to die on the

ground.

.

What does the fox say?

Go away.

.

All these animals are

pacing, including me,

is pacing a lizard

brain behavior. I do it

when I read, did

dinosaurs read too?

.

Wildcats are housecoats but

with the power to fuck you

up, which all housecats

may like to do.

.

Great horned owls should

be on pornhub not at

a family zoo.

.

Turtles on a log, like 6-7.

Wife says: 6-7.

and I had missed my chance,

sad.

.

Every time I see a body

of water I think of

Marcus Brody, "Water? Oh, no

thank you sir, fish make love

in it." He doesn't have the

grail already.

.

Tortoise: a dried out lizard

like RFK Jr. but wiser.

.

Peoples feelings on geese are:

curious, reckless, respectful,

but mostly fearful. Still,

safer than Donald Trump.

.

Son is playing on the

plastic playground monstrosity but ICE

shot a woman.

He's gentle and sweet, a little

nervousness inherited from me

and ICE continues to kidnap

people.

I'm t be his moral compass,

like my mom was to me, I

hope I don't betray my

values and ruin his future

like she did for me.

There are parallels. Since they are

two, my sons, like my brother and me.

ICE killed a mother in

January, stuffs in the

glove compartment, there's

blanks on our van floor

when the air gets cold.

My face resembles kidnapped

people, and my wife is called mother.

Donald Trump promised this

and my mommy voted for it,

forgetting her own stories that

I looked foreign, like a

little "Chinese baby."

She claims to love me but

love is listening, and she

doesn't.

ICE is killing people who

look and think like me.

I wonder, when I drop

the kids off, do I get

taken or

die willfully.

.

I was introduced late to the

concept of universal

salvation. But, now, it is

the only way I can believe in

heaven, at least heaven

that doesn't contradict my

Sunday School Jesus. If

heaven is shared with such

awful judgmental people, I'll

choose hell, even if it means

I never get to meet my

little brother Jordan.

.

Steinbeck is my literary God,

because I can't stand

others who see sentimentality

as weakness, and a maze with

no entrance as a work of

art. Self important pretentious

Hemingways can yank themselves

off but their clever shroud

is a mask for their shallow feel

for human beings.

Steinbeck repeats: Mankind

makes its fortune or misfortune,

it has choice of how to

proceed, and can change, and

have epiphany for good in the

face of mounting tragedy.

I have no use for spitting

on humanity, or holding a nose

up to the working poor.

Steinbeck is my literary God.

.

I always wanted to be a writer

or a filmmaker. No one

really believed in me except

my parents and my brother.

I wonder how much easier

it would have been if others

hadn't ridiculed or mocked

my dreams.

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