RECKONING©

THE SUMMONS

I owe the universe exactly what it owes me:

nothing

this, as sometimes happens

stepped out of nowhere, unasked

I can't disagree

though it implies some sort of quantification

which seems absurd

nothing and nowhere are immeasurable

as a reasonable person

I could dismiss it

but as usual, take the “I” out of it:

the universe owes the universe exactly what the universe . . .

not possible to reason with this

so the universe has spoken: debt=void

still no disagreement

perhaps this could be applied to the mortgage

an agreeable possibility

or this:

miles to go before I sleep

and promises to keep

but suppose I die first

would that be immoral, unethical or illegal?

probably Fidelity Mortgage has that covered

in the fine print

but the universe has spoken

DIGITAL TEACHER

becoming sane has to pass

through craziness

after that normal people probably

doubt your sanity

-- the gardener

dung beetle cinematography

dragging home the grainy images

morphed into animatronics

definitely sharper, if less real

than the recently invented computer animation

now available in a new flavor:

arbitrary

from Bach to Charlie Mingus

from hip hop to my attempts at singing

Van Gogh to sketches of like ancestry

an end run around sketching

today's digital camera is smaller than my Speed Graphic

used for a photography business during high school days

better in many ways, and very different

for instance, it can be set to see just one color

a rose comes out red while everything else stays black and white

the list of improvements and differences would fill a book

the question of reality

for anyone paying paying the least bit of attention

is certainly begging

if it comes to your doorstep, feed it

bring some food every day

if it's still there after two or three weeks

it can come in

let it sit quietly

but don't entertain questions

eventually it will answer itself

roses are red, violets are blue

for the time being

and things are always changing

arbitrary or not is a matter of habit

and that's not the answer

AFTERTHOUGHTS

in a world of change

why try to change the world

when we might survive ourselves anyway

looking down El Camino, it did seem likely

for a few seconds

star of Bethlehem heralded by Styrofoam wreaths

cars, people, rainshine orbits

pools of neon light sloshed in black asphalt

a sodden whiff of literati, graffiti

puke breath hamburger joints

realizing Einstein had said god

doesn't play dice

Tabitha, connoisseur of water

rain water since youngest days

puddles are best, or things that drip

mom objected, was disgusted actually

at my diet of snails and caterpillars

but it wasn't anything visible

though absolutely everywhere

best left unmentioned

SEASON'S GENIE

big bellied oriental red laughing Buddha

beside the green geranium and a special rock

on the entry hall shelf

does not wonder if he will run out of breath

in the darkened room next door

shiny ornaments and twinkling lights invite guests

to leave the workaday universe

for such splendor

as no adult dares to imagine

without a shot of Christmas cheer

how droll the stroll

past images worn so thin

as to be transparent

perhaps the light will shine through

even as plants see it

without photosynthesis

SALTED CIGARETTES

American Dream

in a white blizzard

rioting blacks ruin inner cities

as the Change proceeds

salt is scattered, snow plows move

freedom of the road

floor it!

fifty two vehicles clash together

the drivers still in a hurry

to keep their jobs

gas gets cheaper

freeing masses of money

corporate “news” pumps the shopping frenzy

after years of drought

the bread basket of the nation

looks hollow cheeked

China's air is unbreathable

Fukushima's water is radioactive

the world is not immune to Ebola

or germ warfare, or insane leaders

if stop lights are dictators

what about Artificial Intelligence?

at Montezuma School for Boys

Prof warned about cigarettes

from our mountain on Bear Creek Road

we could see glowing faintly blue

the nuclear test

hear the unspoken victory of black gold

reaping what it has sown

the psychopath system is now destroying itself

through lack of empathy

from an inner mountain

the Change so clearly seen

proceeds

a matter of neither fear nor hate

the common origin of all creatures remains

a faint hint

of inconceivable awe