The Gardener
Santa Clara, CA 95051
theroot_
BLUES DHALIA
Palimpsest
truly, the word jumps out of its own skin
with meanings I can't invent
ordinary words, dimensions, frames without
pictures
suddenly here
to enliven messengers
language that
forget the blind leading the blind
will not rely on vision
but already, saying this, I hear venetian blinds
rustling in a ghostly breeze
there is somewhere a great celebration
a large crowd
but no one there
these usual words not everyone will understand
if I write of a flightless laughing bird
some few will come to scatter seeds
worms will dance and sing
we'll beat the Oki drum for Boy's Day
generations of scholars will find
'neath a coating of dust
lines faint beneath the skim
the sundial rusted shut
The Dhalia
that parrot on the pedestal
see him?
squawking garish colors
he was once a totem pole
say what you will
it's better to have a voice
but there was a catch
no self respecting parrot, it was believed
would just make things up
so a mirror was provided
just in case
the bird called in some local bats
they fluttered in after sundown
bringing cherished memories
and the town folk, mostly unaffected
applauded
scraping mud off their boots
then from the pedestal tweets were heard
and straight away the parrot flew to City Hall
to the clock
where his wife from another life was a coo-coo
bird, out on her ledge
you're late for dinner!
and the mirror?
hung with bats in the belfry
Sapwood Maple
users of the night are not shrouded
as are willow trees by day
beneath the green afterglow of noon
in a shower of butterflies
no doubt always
always a cell tower
chewing alfalfa
I have been
out in the blasted plain
search in vain for a better ketchup cup
but even light must bend
we've seen it do this near the sun during an eclipse
now in the even afterglow of noon
consider at leisure
that when it does bend
then light's not going the shortest route
it moves faster in the round about?
or is there less light in the shorter route?
so that relatively speaking
(as it were)
the bent light will not exceed its speed limit?
where's the explanation?
The Union of Concerned Scientists
has blasted clean the plain
calmly I chew my cell tower
Gifted Parrot
Awk!
]He ruffles green and red feathers for the visitors, setting an example, and hops onto the door of his cage.[
Say what, bird?
You are defined by your relations with others.
We all have cages, bird. The five senses, don't
you know? But . . .
Polly want a cracker!
Crackers are good. Though certainly you
know I'm not owned.
My cage is open ended.
There's no door. Windows? Well, from time
to time, in fact, time disappears altogether.
You'll give me away, too, won't you?
You? Getting right down to it, since there's no
me here, your cage is empty as well.
There's no you or me to give away.
I'm getting a better cage, crackers, the whole
nine yards.
How far will it be? As far as I'm concerned,
open ended means no limit.
Not entirely.
And where will it be, if there's no you? We're
endless. So if you make a definition of me,
parrot, drawn up out of our relations,
you own it.
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The Gardener
Santa Clara, CA 95051
theroot_