Muddy Caminos, Cannibal Cows and Glamour Horses

​In the Basque Country
on the Camino del Norte
 
(an excerpt from I Walk the Earth)
 

By Gonzalo Adolfo
 
—from Saint-Jean-de-Luz to Hendaye in the French Basque Country
 
pungent charcoal odor from
giant black seaside rocks,
rain blunts the muse
…
sharp seaside cliffs cut
at an angle shearing
like wood, heavy wind
…
grazing horses shrug off
rain, man of the
earth becomes a beast
…
anaconda-sized worm and
belly-up critter, the
Camino is so gross
…
muddy slip and grabbed
a hold, thorny pine
needles give no quarter
…
puddles collect by the
roadside, a cold bath
splash from passing cars
…
pebbled paths make a
fine gutter, walking in
a spanking new stream
…
-entering Spain
a ferry across the
river, the highlight of
a rainy dog day
…
 
—from Hondarribia to Pasai Donibane in the Spanish Basque Country
 
licking its chops looking
at me, cow salivating
over a man burger
…
eating the yellow wildflowers,
puffy-coated sheep and
a long-haired pony
…
Rick James horse freezes
for a glamour shot,
flaunt those kinky curls
…
strutting their stuff and
ringing a bell, herd
of goats with weaves

Photo by Brian Barkley​

​Gonzalo Adolfo, an American of Bolivian descent, is the author of the short novels, No Rush for Gold and Golden Rushes, and the volume of mixed poetry and prose, Gone to War. He has been published in Somos en escrito and the Paris-based Bioptic Review. He currently lives in Berkeley where he is working on his next book, Give Me a Home, a volume inspired by a recent road trip through the National Parks and Forests of the Northern Mountain States. All of his work is available at www.bumhew.com.