The Gardener
Santa Clara, CA 95051
theroot_
GRIST©
PROLOGUE
at the prow of my reality cutter
is a wedge of chocolate cake
awarded at commencement
from a dream scarcely recalled
wedging into a world drab by comparison
shiny frosting, it might be blue inside
neither tooth nor fork shall defile it
mere speculation, of course
it is sort of depressing to know for sure
but right outside
right now
awaits an endless muffle, gruff and rumble
truly
the one so bravely protected in this grave inoculation
has no taste for sugar
there will be time enough and again
for such antiquated gestures of good will
an ancient framework, melting clock with warped hands
and so
preceded in heraldic majesty
come one, come all
make way
endless night melds with endless day
[the curtain pure speculation now rises]
a change in the weather, blue M&Ms, disoriented sex counselors
metro strike, carmageddon, stifling smog
machines chew the earth
at night their incessant breathing
sirens, jets, garbage trucks asleep
for the moment
spider threads in darkened homes
swamp trees hawking moss
oh my, get the fire hoses ready
Mr. President
your honor
are you relevant?
call off your swamp dogs
they've lost the scent
darkened homes save electricity
making us less energy dependent
think of the floods, lightning storms and hurricanes
can anyone top that
for energy
roof top solar panels blown away
a natural rip off
there is some fundamental flaw
in the prevailing reasoning
that thinks I am a machine
plug me into the school system
upload me with facts and figures
true though they may be
and I will iterate
chewing
eating more and more
taxing sewerage plants
I decline
your honor
my inspiration is unholy
in fact it is one big hole
from within nothing I see what cannot be seen
I babble so it seems
look at it your way
I am not normal
just sane
though few, there are those who
travel the same road
pay for gas
and know that it's going up in flames
all the mansions of civilization
who remember rocks of a brook side creek
tanning in the sun
not to be confused with monks
or fearless hummingbirds
a throng actually
serious laughter
zucchini tendrils waving
unexplained explosions in the dark
neighbors with flashlights, background breathing
and no one can see blue campanula
until the garbage truck comes
sirens begin
morning is a good time for heart attacks
and for doves'
mournful cooing
have you read this
Mr. President?
I am not waiting
LOONEY TUNES
look at all the lonely cars
where are they going to?
stir fried brown rice with some onions, garlic
and et cetera
oh yeah, and some tofu
Helios heats the rising dawn
is this so different from ancient times?
four wheel cubicles crammed in transit gridmelt
windows hunkered down
heroes point to busses that will actually get there
mundane concerns eluded the ancient ones
who are not here for a transit strike
not on their way to fluorescent lights
at the work place
yo ho, heave ho!
get that line of code
remember Hammurabi!
let's be honest
forget souls stranded in a vile soup of their own making
and appreciate random perks
air conditioners still function
fried bacon, for the more heartless, is still possible
celebrate, in some macabre fashion
the light fantastic
but mosquitoes bearing West Nile virus
polluted Chinese rivers
Marxian textile slaves
North Korea's national prison
Taiko drums with an odd bell back beat
a twitching string of paper lanterns
the last throes of a hanging man
buffeted by artic winds
fried bacon will grease the skids
Titanic Challenger docking now
one giant step . . .
for ancient texts preserving wisdom
that is well . . .
ancient
the evening news, with dancing bears
peanuts and beer
a few brief shots of . . .
was that a circus tent collapsing?
officers at German death camps, listening with half closed eyes
to Jewish musicians on the eve of their extinction
this world, after all
so fleeting
weighted with accumulations of belief and debt
credited with mosquito nets, drums of any nationality
a freedom bus without flat tires
prosperity, opportunities, expansion
forever and ever
amen
PEACE ON EARTH
fourth of July and a declaration of freedom
days of oppressive heat
windows open to receive ambassadors of cool weather
evening news reports a revolution in the jet stream
unseen celebrants are heard in neighborhoods
of general excitement
a kid in Gilroy gets fifteen seconds of expensive fame
where the brown grass is tinder
"I just like to see things explode"
sandwiched between religious versus personal freedom
Supreme Justices have decided
marry the person of your choice
any citizen is OK
PBS and I have a relationship
I love lots of their programs
PBS is very fond of "viewers like you", which is me
since corporations have wrested "personhood" from the Justices
thus becoming citizens
PBS and I can claim full legal access to privileges
formerly denied to alternate people
America is great
the TV babbles on
fire crackers Snapple and pop
like breakfast cereal
which when closely auditioned
in turn
raises the question of sugar
known to blast the insulin system
contributing to diabetes
and a drain upon public funds for its treatment
in the meantime Tabitha
who over the years has learned the actual reality
now lies comfortably sprawled across my bed
not even twitching her ears
anymore
she doesn't care if things explode
though it's a matter of degree
really big bangs do rate a rousing of one ear
solving the koan about the sound
of one hand clapping
fabulations roll on and on
wandering thoughts pass by morning zazen
the TV now responds to Susan's choices
English accents
except for the silent films
which play ancient music re-imagined
on a synthesizer
how wonderful
this forest
predisposed to move in lightning flashes
fireworks
and Tabitha's ears
not twitching
AD VENTURE
idling in the heat at a stop light in Saratoga
my attention feels a tug
the billboard, picturing a swimming pool
says:
WHY NOT TAKE A BREAK
FROM HAVING IT ALL
TO ENJOY IT?
it's captive audience
poor people
having to buy a prison break
after years of virtuous self denial
tokens carefully quarantined from frivolous consumption
only to squander it in utter disregard
for the purpose of life
on Peacock Court
by apartments I maintain
a man on the sidewalk
straddle legged, stabbing the sky with his cell phone
yelling because his listener in Israel or Turkistan -- so far away
evinced a moment of empathy
at places I visit every week
there are crow bosses
who survey
and grant my presence from specific roof tops, street lamps
sometimes hopping onto my lawn
talking all the while
or onto the street nearby
oh look, don't you see the seed?
I look but don't see it
and don't dare answer because there are normal people around
since cataract surgery I see like a kid again
and other miracles harder to describe
some of these charades are a hopeless foray into the heart of it
for those who like their whiskey neat
I have poured a shot or two
if you like a cube of ice, well . . .
it is so hot tonight I thought of getting
all the ice cubes from the freezer
putting them up on the roof
it's scientific
heat rises, cold descends
I have read Whitman
and was bombasted
sort of impressed by his grandiose scheme
of a national poem
built on a pile of leaves
not bad
rather a practical idea
death by a thousand cuts
life by lots of leaves
which of course will eventually compost
leaving the truth
a real magic trick
considering that truth
is not different from a leaf
which, if push comes to quark
escapes all attempts at definition
so here's all this truth stuff
everywhere
evoking hearty laughter
each word in service a string of cans and curses
a bill board
a swimming pool
a smile is forever
idling in the heat
QUIET VILLAGE
quiet evening light
across the street a eucalyptus tree
its limbs almost embarrassing
elegance couched in velvet green
lingering in the heat of a day like many
yet to come
a shallow breeze questioning
relief
but tonight will do
tonight may dwell upon a promise of morning doves
deep hollow tones
tonight my throat is beaded sweat
oh perfidious
ah perspicacious
oh the place of songs without voice
or need of voice
either graveled
or grasping necessity
place your bets
measure the distance from here to elsewhere
and while the tape is stretched
miss the eucalyptus in her modesty
my mustache is also beaded
do you have one?
is it shaved?
who put it there?
a kid's nose is a landing strip
orange butterfly wings slowly folding to rest
in the key of F#
mushrooms matter
a hookah smoking caterpillar
found a perch on one
and guess what?
morning doves do sing
it's been a heat wave all along
turtles all the way down
which
if that makes sense to the erudite
still does not teach hookah lessons
FEEDING FRENZY
in a secret conference room
the focus group discusses
survival of the ruthless
management of the fearful
and rewards for the greedy
and we got here how?
the weather by degrees
has gotten out of hand
no way to dodge the sun
which continues in what used to be called heaven
in a monster traffic jam
transit workers are on strike
with a shudder, the proceedings halt
some wikirenegade has hacked a power plant
a silence of wine glasses
only the chandeliers tinkle
and on the giant screen:
NECESSITY IS THE MOTHER OF PREVENTION
lobbyists advise another course of cheese and caviar
do not rush to your limousines
the best wine is yet to come
but a waiter has leaked the leak
now rushing into the street
passions mangled for the evening news
people interrupted in their subway sandwiches
something is not quite right
here we are
all of us were chomping
jobs, prosperity, expansion
but the weather . . .
and this traffic!
there is room for just so many cars
mouths and sewerage plants
everything is overheated
too much too fast
everywhere
carmageddon
climate change
it has metastasized
maybe some chemotherapy:
electric cars
birth control
underground cities
the rogue leaker grabs the mike:
more jobs and more people
so cheaper wages
so more profits
return to GO and punch up another cycle
and each time around the money is increased by profits
calling for more expansion
ad infinitum
money feeds upon itself
chemotherapy won't cure it
even ego therapy won't work
it is a disorder of our social DNA
which can be mapped, sequenced and modified
to inhibit the need for continual expansion
DAY OF RECOGNITION
happy to report there are, indeed
blue M&Ms
they were in the trail mix Susan brought home
we win, we win!
the wheel of fortune to our east has settled
fibrillations of the jet stream come to rest
how bright the sun
keep pets and the elderly inside
OK, so it's Saturday
in the morning I mow, trim and sweat
when the sun gets high
I stay inside and scribble
how many others cannot manage the words
heat
releasing dormant strands of scent
hidden behind memories
drifting past
wait, wait – where were you from?
the heat
driving patrons to cooling centers
bingo distraction
calm resignation in fluorescent rooms with clicking balls
grand masters of the public budget left behind
look at the sky
boundless
is that me?
of course not, say public puppeteers
splash your balls in the public fountain
your day has come and you
are gone
I cheer, I cheer
I am gone!
glad to meet you
and where were you from?
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The Gardener
Santa Clara, CA 95051
theroot_