BURIED GOLD©
ELOCUTION
there is no sense of disorder
just a lack of the usual order
tonight's full moon stirs no ghosts
there is no explanation for this
there is none for my work
these words flow one after another
as feet follow an afternoon stroll
aimed nowhere in particular
spring buds pushing out everywhere
with no unique intent
it would behoove Shakespeare
suppose all the actors on his stage
were speechless
OIL RIG
college days:
gas, $0.19 a gallon
price war!
Sam Crow's Shell on Castlemont Drive, San Jose
unbelievable?
take the word of a seventy-five-year-old
and so?
today's prices vary by that much in a day
anyone remember when the attendant who pumped your gas
also checked your oil, cleaned your windshield
all as a matter of course?
a thing of the past
and now we're hooked
what next?
imagine the gas disappearing
which of course it is
there being a finite supply of oil in the ground
and when it's gone?
the price war will get real
suppose you can't get home, take your kids to the beach, go shopping
how much will that be worth?
oh, electric everything
not to worry
but it has to be generated and stored
there's coal, gas, hydro, windmills, solar panels
for hot water and, yes, electricity
(well, strike coal and gas)
(green house gasses)
the amounts generated without fossil fuel, even including nuclear power
fall short of present consumption
and now we're hooked
and climate change doesn't stop when fossil fuels are gone
rock and a hard place
not to speak of wars, migrations, pandemics
fuel running out, climate changing
these are certain
the disaster is already upon us
what to do the certain question
technology will save us!
but it got us here
paeans to progress notwithstanding
remember when it was the most important product?
soon to be replaced by profit
if indeed there was any other important product
can technology change climate change?
will fossil fuel last forever?
rock, scissors, paper
a game older than me
and certainly less relevant
THE UNBEATEN PATH
this legacy of language
honorable heritage
fabric of human life
closely woven in thought
means of communication across generations
across the room
across treaties, declarations of love and war
and slavery
to shorthand definitions of the flow that never ceases
with such an introduction, surely
words must rank as generals and leaders
saying do not follow leaders
did Bob Dylan really know
what he meant?
politics is buried in the dust
of definitions
as Dylan Thomas wrote
do not go gently into that good night
surely he knew that the next day
would follow anyhow
and the path that seems to have appeared here
where does that lead?
not to disappoint
it leads nowhere
and where is that?
it's right here
in the heart of unknowing
go there gently
BAGATELLE
magic of language is hocus pocus
like any other
it is trickery
including these words
which debunk it
a self-referential conundrum
ah but rhythm and rhyme, which ride along
these
are prior
as the chicken which precedes the cow
descendant of small birds found perching upon
water buffalo
hidden in the DNA of sea gulls and mussel shells
even mistletoe
there is a certain felicity
it rallies the mind
so there is no excuse
logic must bow
like a flag at half mast
on a misty morning
as nasturtiums gather dew
in jeweled spheres
