WAY PAST©

THE SWITCH

THAT TURNS ITSELF OFF

a laurel wreath won't do for this impossible celebration

only waiting

stretch galaxies, shrink molecules

or

god forbid

switch off the TV

yellowed leaves revered in fall

 once green

soon to be forgotten

and the morning glory's splendor

all disappear

some remain who are meant to see

a symphony before ears

those few

who elude dragnet words

WHEN GALAXIES COLLIDE

seems a natural shame to waste this

swordfish yield to penfish

penguins in their tank

tapping at observation windows

swim in smarter circles than accounted for

by the best politicians

of course this makes no sense

when properly viewed, philosophically

so go back to knitting

causing no wars

yet, as has been suggested

do not go gently

dare any of us think

we think

that morning birds are awake

and not their DNA

music is the actual reason

that tones combine before treason

why

pray tell

should all of this continue?

penguins, porcupines, termite mounds

properly viewed

remember

are keys

to the equation

let's have a few mathematical condensations

to bundle conclusions

but waste it we shall

to quibble the benefits of

mowing, weeding, reading

what comes after this

ORDINARY MAGIC

the gold scale on our front porch in Los Gatos

weighed stardust

if nothing else

a dry well sheltered by our garage

was useless

heaven was avocado leaves in late afternoon glow

 green

just before sunset

distance and years forgotten

reincarnated each liquid amber fall

a spangle of cafeteria bracelets trailing sparklers, fireworks

sunbeams just beyond reach

a garden spider's jeweled  web

cobble stoned streets

dams of mud, sticks and stones

rivulets and ripples

now taking form

in Santa Clara

RECEPTION

at last the radio falls silent

just short of being able to get

The Whistler

the blank side of this AT&T bill

is open for reception

unedited programs fly through the ether

a medium now eschewed

Tabitha cuddles in for something

we don't know what

rain is falling

the middle storm of three

to be followed by a real blast

flash floods on the western coast

who will wash dishes for artificial intelligence?

it can hear The Whistler

edits in hierarchies

spells according to statistics

but it does not need clean pots

this is the National Weather

skitchhh . . .

a sure harbinger

the compost bird flew off

Tabitha knows it

once brilliant trees

now naked are intelligent?

hiding from an absent sun

they hibernate

a long winter's nap begins at three-thirty

daylight savings time

it would have been four-thirty

were it not for meddlers, clerks, clocks

all very reasonable

a nation of free crows visits our tree

machines were humble servants once

to replace humans owned

babbling brooks open to blue skies

were transmitted by minds

far beyond computation

Tabitha is purring

BARREL HOUSE BOOGIE

it may not be much

but who's to say what's more

begin anywhere or start in the middle

there is no end

pa da!

presto chango, we arrive at Niagara Falls

in a barrel

where galaxies collide, with an appreciation for hoop construction

people watch with fascination

fries and a Big Mac

here we are at the end of the world and

nothing

not even a leaper

hot damn!

I am

well that's a beginning, isn't it?

not so fast there, pardner

pardon the informality

but can't we just enjoy the sunset?

or how about an appreciation of geese

flying south

or north

wherever

see how it spirals?

counterclockwise down the drain

at the Mystery Spot in Santa Cruz

water flows uphill

my insanity isn't much

perhaps yours is the fountain of youth

great balls of fire!

let's boogie

BY THE FIRE

it is such a pleasure to be nowhere tonight

to see the fires of hell deleted

karma vaporized in a transitory blaze

breath comes and goes

its passing never ends

and laughter

which bursts forth without so much as a dropping pin

toes wiggle

people talk

birds sing

bees navigate pollen by sunlight

rocks don't say much

until asked:

do you dream, rocks?

there is an interminable wait

still nothing

well

it was like asking a merry go round horse

do you gallop?

do you get a pension?

night after night it's the same thing

Tabitha purrs

no matter which way the pen is moving