God’s Country

It opens on a koan, the road is longer than it is hard, walked with no guide and nothing in hand but a voice and a stone. It asks the impossible, could you be someone else, and inventories the inheritance, a highway to nowhere ridden anyway, a cold car with no gas chosen, kids who will grow up with half as much and find out too late what they needed.

Communion turns carnal, love tasted sweet, blood drunk and meat bitten, held and released on a count of three. Wicca Phase Springs Eternal rides through pines and family secrets, a farmhouse gothic of crashed trucks and virgin wives, and by the last pass the taste has turned, dog teeth asked to unsink, better off letting go, in God’s country.