The Gardener
Santa Clara, CA 95051
theroot_
RENEGADE RIDER
Is it luck, karma, the occasional scrub beneath finger nails?
Just out on the porch is a potted geranium enjoying morning sun. It lives
On the after-death experience of composted leaves.
That's some heavy soil, nourished in periodic urination.
Now that the category is dialed in, imagine the Secret Life of Plants, implicate quantum musings, and dark matter
Looking out the window of Santa Clara's Library towards that statue in the park.
A pigeon looking down upon all creation from its white spattered perch.
Mind wanders into the nowhere dimension
Of bronze sculptured hats and cultured lawns.
How can nothing go up in smoke like the fire on Bear Creek Road?
Dreams and subconscious designations like a mirror with a lottery ticket
Try to intervene, pull strings, yank emotions and ridicule the obvious
Almost universally unseen, even as eyes are secondary.
None of that matters.
There will be no book on the shelves that comes anywhere close.
It's not a white spattered bronze hat
Either.
And I, for one, enjoy weeding
Entering the secret life
Finding roots
There are so many seeds anyhow
And so, suddenly
I cross luck off the list . . .
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The Gardener
Santa Clara, CA 95051
theroot_