WINDOW BLOSSOMS©

EARLY

certainly a wisp of something

passing through fall's morning sun

perhaps the scent of cedars

squirrel has reclaimed his gift

will winter end the drought?

the avocado is chewed

its nutrients consumed

silhouetted on a branch of the hackberry tree

he watches us sit

though Tabitha started our group

it's not about her

she wanders off

other scents bring formless recollections

I wait

they cease

the wisp is gone

NO WORDS

on my way to the corner

a parrot in someone's yard

disguised as a cat or an ambulance

fools some of us some of the time

toting my camera to where there is a sign

yellow, diamond shaped: duck crossing

caricature of a duck with a tote

slung on a staff over one wing

a silhouette in black

a couple of women who live across the street

sitting on the curb, one with a beer and a cigarette

seem uneasy as I approach

but it's happened before – no gardening hat

a friendly hello begins the conversation

and yes, that's my truck just up the street . . .

soon we hear a frog, then a little bird

the parrot, to their evident relief, is deciphered

gradually we discover common ground

the lady to my left has lived here, a few blocks away

all her life

the smoker grew up near my home town

the orchards, Blossom Hill Road, cutting cots

what are the odds here

in the jet wash of Silicon Valley

I meander up the block

just beneath the duck sign is a green one

in white letters: LAWRENCE EXPRESSWAY

my composition frames them both, a subtle suggestion

that the duck is headed for certain death

I flip open the screen to show them

and no comment

they just both nod their heads

NO PROOF TRUTH

the cock that crows at dawn is out of sync

by eight seconds

stellar events observed yesterday

are already a billion years old

earthly events are clocked by a cesium atom

which slices them into incomprehensibly small segments

which most of us, by agreement, define as real

by the time anyone reads this

it will be history

so much for time

but the idea of the irrelevance of time

will survive in spite of itself

ideas outlive historical circumstances

reincarnated from mind to mind

across generations

for instance that minds are limitless

in spite of themselves

or that minds are not separate

in spite of evidence to the contrary

by the time anyone reads this

the future is now

and so is the past

BLOSSOMS

just around the edges of our neighborhood

are the last remnants

where new houses sprout

where the cherry orchard was

where tomorrow breeds

an exponential curve that warps straight up

playing with infinity

just beyond the edges maybe

another dimension

a cherry tree universe, all blossoms

thought to be elsewhere

in here it is thought to end

railroad tracks lead through black pupils

to retinas, event horizons

from which nothing escapes

light excites neurons interviewed by the mind

images are stored

energy is conserved

well that just about wraps it up

but on the other hand

what part of the universe

is not here

where eyes are the windows of the soul