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
