The Gardener
Santa Clara, CA 95051
theroot_
SCRABBLE STONE©
SYMPOSIUM
our topic for this evening's symposium:
UNDEFINED
I will be tying the ends of this kerchief around a pencil
an intermission follows
* * *
welcome back
we see our philosophy professors have not returned
for you few who remain
watching my parachute slowly descend
we shall appreciate absurdity
half meanings of our lives hidden under tables
sheltered from the usual, usual
now suddenly comes this floating truth
irrelevant?
but following the usual laws of physics
something was missing before
Niagara Falls lapped in a barrel
half an apple buried
in a tomb of garden rocks
not to be exhumed for the casual observer
ah, the appreciation –
of what?
not an apple
not a barrel
not a what
the graceful arc
smothers flower words
BASIC BIRTH AND DEATH
some revere God and Country
pledge allegiance
some are attuned to Life, Liberty and The Pursuit of Happiness
another motto:
Take the Money and Run
(1) a robot may not harm a human
or allow a human to come to harm
(2) a robot must obey human commands
(3) let no harm come to a robot
provided this doesn't contradict the first two laws
take your pick:
meat or vegetables?
both?
I rest my case
in fact, as a sovereign individual, these arguments
have no standing
all thrown out of the court of nonentities
sue me
but I will be the judge
to the disdain of believers
instead I persist in drinking water when thirsty
clipping fingernails when they get in the way
the conditions of each moment are unique
I change them by paying attention
life is fun sometimes, but not because I planned that
sometimes painful, ditto
I am alive, whether or not I have a right to be
I AM
my liberty is decided in the moment
happiness comes and goes
whether or not I pursue it
state constitutions are predicated on mine
robots are not concerned with any of this
except perhaps being the judge
and without all the rest how valid are their decisions?
do I contradict myself?
very well, then . . .
were I perfectly consistent
I wouldn't be human
A THOUGHT
IN ONE MAN'S MIND
and a Hiroshima in communications
brought you this message
think of it:
a gardener's thought sent round the world
you readers have sight beyond vision
hear with more than ears
a certain resonance
that escapes the microscope of reason
let's enjoy it
squiggle through sea weed
ignore coral reefs
and admit
at last
another order of reality
here we are
where galaxies and dark matter pass
like strangers through infinity
ah, how freedom rings
two if by land
or something like that
before the final take
madness, is it not?
exactly what is needed
the tide is rising
flutes play a lullaby
Chevron grabs the screen
we are lilted to creek beds
salmon upstream bravely striving
the benzene ring
found in a dream
now fuels a universe inhabited by hoards
neighborhood birds are another order
seen by many
aren't they cute
in our parallel universe
evolved through puffs of smoke, semaphore, telegraph, digital dots and dashes, iris scanners, predictive crime statistics, plastic skin over robotic activators, mathematics of fried snails
a kite has snapped its string
supersedes the evening news
all brought to you
thanks to Hiroshima
HURDY-GURDY
FULL MOON TONIGHT
porcelain sea
awooo!
truth to tell, other than the obvious
gravitational attraction
undertow of poetic opinion
is a dangerous current best avoided
in darkening sky
let it shine
as real as the sun
sentries of our life
all due respect
complex is the rhythm of the day
dancers twirl, raise their arms
a phallic may pole sends down lightning
rain falls
order satisfies the hunter
astrological mysteries move the tide
promising a triumphal parade
necklaces of bright plastic beads
tossed to en eager crowd
the night and the moon
and the promise
of secret knowledge
hands clapping
Lordy, Lordy set me free!
bye, bye Lordy
says me
the moon is quiet
I am not the first to see
with ears that have become eyes
a common transformation little noticed
but one that can be smelled
through elbows
let's just take a trip up there
to that bright object
which has no need of opinion
and bask in its universality
like a bronze butterfly
slowly turning
here
in the arms of a long lost dilemma
where the porcelain sea
might be sleeping
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The Gardener
Santa Clara, CA 95051
theroot_