The Gardener
Santa Clara, CA 95051
theroot_
BREEZE CAP©
CEILING FAN
my Cadillac has a flat tire
chauffer says we're out of peanuts and champagne
the sky has a glow, greenish mostly, in moving sheets
our view of the ocean is blocked
and here we are without a jack
none of the electronic stuff works
so much for AAA, the Highway Patrol, tractor beams
many years ago, for our school play
we used a sheet of tin to thrash out some thunder
for just such situations
everyone was in awe
us kids had actually made something real
and we just barely knew about radio tubes
more like trekking up to Castle Rock, sweaty socks, puffing, and the sun too bright
reality is marmalade
sometimes lemonade
but hardly compares with a field of golden oats
dried grass
or a compass with its magic needle
and all of that impossibly different than using
much less having
a jack
Christmas trees with blinking lights
traffic signals flashing red and green
a brilliant sign in white lights
"METERING ON"
which, of course, is far from our desert with the flat tire
in the living room, on her exercise bike, Susan is not pedaling
fast enough to recharge the electronics
but in all fairness, there is no generator
to harvest her excess energy
even though we recycle down to the plastic caps off my wine bottles
well, actually, I lied
the TV which she is watching works
so all that neat stuff, like devils in Aladdin's lamp
has to get readjusted from time to time
the car is out there in the desert
without friends or peanuts
and the sky is not only green, it glowers
there are people, not relatives, who remember a glorious sunset
red tinged, orange, streaked with blue
like a Japanese wood block print
but in Japan, in those days, oxcarts were in the paddies,
priests in their temples
and no one had ever heard of a car jack
once when we had a family vacation in New Mexico
there was a lightning storm
darkening clouds eclipsed my song
and it crashed – the thunder that is
much better than a sheet of tin
and in the dry sand there was a tingle in my feet
so refreshing
dim beginnings
the car went from place to place
before its flat tire
it went from San Jose to San Francisco
when 101 was two lanes
and there were no crashes
about halfway there was Dinah's Shack
to celebrate the persistence of slavery
and the radio shack by Moffett Field
to celebrate war, all those antennas
yeah
and then I got to sit in the front seat
all of this, son, will be yours one day
I got a bicycle for my birthday
it wasn't long before I made a luggage rack
over the rear wheel
to carry my grass clippers
I was in business
but that wasn't all
I got a clarinet
and became a soloist
and when it all ran out
needing a jack was
so retro
goodbye pork pie hat
god's country
dim beginnings
I remember when Blossom Hill Road was aptly named
which became the devil's country
the slow tingle when the tractors came
not to cultivate but to uproot
and so much more
earth to earthlings
do you read me?
wind blows through our liquid amber tree out by the street
cars go by
on the driveway our cats bake in the sun
content to be asleep
air quality here sometimes is the envy of our nation
even when the weather gets freaky
climate change makes the bay area, once again, god's country
not that all those people on Highway 101 have noticed
apparently
now on the evening news we see three car pileups, mass murders
and no one out there seems concerned about having a jack
the do-it-yourself era is over
when I was a kid there were people, relatives
who played piano
and one of them would actually be someone who knew
how to milk a cow
nobody cares
there must be some cause better than peanuts
or the military jets that still streak
over Dinah's Shack
I sigh a peaceful sigh
it's all so retro
AUTHOR AUTHOR
prime directive
something ordained
in direct descent of the powers
of whatever
it's like trail mix
enough to negotiate the trail without too much
complication
just keep moving
it's all up there
somewhere
just a bit out of reach
but somehow less than a stretch
waking up is a good time to stretch
feels good
prime directive
ordained by?
a herd of cats
all in military order
ordained by . . .
there are numerous examples
my favorite being apples
and sunrise
I love apple pie
it is . . .
how do birds say it?
when I cannot
but also
a scattering of bell church towers
and blackberry clouds in their parts
wearing fool's caps
if it's all a stage
who hands out the parts
and who gets to write the script?
Director!
who applauds Director as the curtain comes down?
was Director elected?
hoi polloi senseless, insensate savages?
weeds at the base of the stage are ignored
which, after all, are springs of creativity
flim flam et cetera that will bring
The Next Big Thing
bring out the Taiko drums!
fill the mall with happy folk waving Kirin beer mugs
handed out by
The Director
beat the drums
raise dust
stir up two bit players, loosen the bit
let them run
but keep the profit
ah, but soft
perhaps your author is too heated
passion unbecoming
is it?
seeds fall through
germinate
and sprout up through the cracks
F
it's always a compromise between birds of the horizon
which have flown off into eternity
or at least as far as memory can last
and a dripping faucet
long tendrils of our trumpet vine gauge no intervention
or mice on the scurry side of a porch door
there is no wriggle without a wag
no wig without baldness
everything is balanced with what is not
do not make me a leader
for I value freedom
my nose drips
on occasion
such as heavy work on a cold morning
aged jowls are the saddlebags of my face
grateful for a presence of mind which has forgotten
horizons and such theoretical stuff
take your cart to the marketplace and I will not be on it
even where capped clouds are weightless
point to them
I will not sing
civilization is grand
for next to nothing these words have traveled far beyond
and pictures taken with my cell phone
far more than boats have risen
and this does not depend on you
or me
and as for freedom –
simply a recognition of truth
WARM FUZZIES
there are big words for this:
equanimity
small ones:
laziness
but none quite do the job
I do my work everyday
better suited for men half my age
get tired, come home, have a beer, watch newstainment
weather propaganda
every evening I play the piano
Captain Ahab at the prow of his ship
fending off monstrosities
to plumb depths of accidental revelation
and of course to play these words
sing their rhythm
and its all not much
in the eyes of estimation
which flutter down brocaded halls
those eyes
and absolutely it's all just such
accidentally my eyes rest upon a fallen branch
victim of trimming
and it is the whole tree
and yet again the leaf
and then my fingers branching
just a normal day
all beyond those eyes of estimation
and of course these words
a helicopter poses overhead
airship at sea
pulsing waves of sound muted through double pane windows
the resonance
it is all not much
I am lazy
why not advertise it?
it could be the start of someone's journey
getting sleepy now
all that trimming today
and then cooking
then piano
and now a glass of red wine
reservatrol
heard of it?
some sort of life extension plan
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The Gardener
Santa Clara, CA 95051
theroot_