The Gardener
Santa Clara, CA 95051
theroot_
PLENITUDE©
shadow leaves
breathing on a wall
or is it the mind?
as well ask the meaning of air
which brings on a fit of sneezing
pen discombobulated
perhaps a dangerous idea
then a chuckle
at the foot of the bed
toes wriggle delightedly
tyranny has lost its hold
big black bugs of the night
are in their hangers
dishes in the sink
rattle almost imperceptibly
JOHN CLOUD
great warriors and cash register receipts
promise random riches
all part of the system
of a chessboard now overturned
pieces bobbing, apples in a barrel
Chopper Five hanging overhead
tracks the San Andreas fault
suddenly zooms in on
Bear Creek Road
an incredibly aged American Indian
is doing a sand painting
where did he get those brilliant colors?
in a lonely moment
few watch
none really care
but after all
perhaps it's the last best hope
he proceeds as though no one is there
a crow lands in the apple tree overhead
Caw!
contributes a round white blotch
perfectly centered
a single onlooker cheers
the mandala is perfect
will it appear on the evening news?
ROOT CELLAR STOMP
Tabitha washes her paws
it will be chilly tonight
perhaps not too many dreams
on this sand bar in Santa Clara
in the south bay
the evening news was not a gentle breeze
another polar blast in July
the thread of meaning snaps
there is an impertinent flutter
an imagined cellar door opens
roots stored in there are restive
it is impious
in keeping with their lowly place
they should not be singing
John Cloud, of recent celebration, is there
scattering sand from an incense burner
the gates of Hell
a little further down
are slowly closing
and Hieronymus Bosch is laughing
carrots on parade!
Carrot 1:
“Pardon me, Sir!”
“Is this the Chattanooga Station?”
Carrot 2:
“Get out!”
“Didn't you watch 2001, the Odyssey?”
Carrot 3:
“Star Trek, Star Trek!”
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The Gardener
Santa Clara, CA 95051
theroot_