The Gardener
Santa Clara, CA 95051
theroot_
GONDOLAS©
CROSSWINDS
sunlight is no mystery
as I patch the radiator on my truck
to prevent further overheating
it helps warm the epoxy in my hands
in fact, looking into the tank, green antifreeze is reassuring
all the checks and balances might cancel out
like a bank statement
if that's what this was about
appearances are both necessary and deceiving
without deception, civilization would evaporate
words cannot approximate a smoothly running engine
a sort of rhythm
and the tone of it resonates
disappearances are no assurance that what was isn't
or that what will be isn't, either
just not right now
resonance is a mystery
so reassuring
until the details of what resonates are taken into account
all scientific bankers must turn a blind eye to quantum physics
to how humming birds hover
clearly it is muscle power, unenslaved, profitless
my toes laugh at the improbability of walking
international space station mapping earth lights at night
and thus passes the glory of the world
our friend, the bumblebee, is absolute freedom
familiar through reappearance
amongst shades of green, red, yellow, purple and blue
ultraviolet, gamma rays, and other hues
that escape the balance sheet
so reassuring to realize
that bankers are fools
my truck will probably run tomorrow
this story will have a fitting end
though
this is not a balance sheet
and these words now evaporate
CHANGE
tenements of vacant porches, foreclosures
landfills in a path scattered with sea gulls
lazy days of summer humming past strawberries
earth pulverized in Gilroy to grow vegetables
consumed in Los Gatos
celebrated by the high school marching band
as clues accumulate
that glaring aboriginal mask with surrealistic teeth
details of a path definitely given
but not taken
in a pile of granite monuments, hallowed ruins
having no more than a rain storm's reason
for a season of tornadoes
the sense of it is a shadow play
fascinating
a snake's rattle
fading into paneled walls, wells in their promise
a final resolution for which we search images on screens
pixels micromanaged by artists of our decimation
all those who dare not hope
nose to the BBQ
heads not lifted for fear of surveillance
but will have their day
lords of Safeway and Orchard Supply
pay homage to the Blue Angels
blasting through barren skies
reminders of penalties
and incentives to submission
Guantanamo Bay for our protection
national debt a necessity
to enslave our grandchildren
and on out to colonization of
first the moon and then
slipping 2001 a bit
The Final Frontier
OK, Y'all
so that's the way it was advertised
buy some Advil in the meantime
not that I buy this "Y'all" stuff
but you see what I mean
inner peace?
please, what is the difference
between molecules spread out at distances
on the order of that between galaxies
and so
getting down to the nitty gritty
what is space?
let's get real
who defines it?
just think –
all those BBQs on the 4th of July
displayed on Google
I can see yours
you can see mine
ain't technology wonderful
let us recall Bradbury's October country
or September's harbinger
the time has come
the walrus said
to speak of many things
and now
I am speaking
your freedom is less than a step away
tyranny imagined is overthrown
in the instant it is forgotten
vines grow
cats meow
lawns get mown over and over
sunsets and sunrises
going gently into that good day
A FOMENT MOMENT
the truth is not just inconvenient
it is giving birth to evacuation plans
militias and gangs
people who see nature as an ally
barbarians vs. Rome
worker-slaves vs. Bankers
what a drama
line up the talking cars
it will sell something
so there is something else
not to ignore what most people do
but what . . . ?
let's tap our fingers
we are prestidigitators
it will appear
we have paid for refrigerators and smog checks
tsunamis will wait
and wait and wait
patience is a virtue
and yet . . .
IT?
please excuse my laughter
or better
let's hear a blast, all you trombones
but not too much
yeast is rising
LIBERATION
artificial intelligence
robotic surgery
machines that pick grapes or lettuce
and so who needs humans?
the ones now in power
and the point?
to rule, to command other humans
if I have a muscle car, rev the engine, pop the clutch, burn rubber
or make it circle in a side show
what's the fun without watchers?
what fun is a castle without servants
an airport without passengers
a corner office without a secretary
these were all necessary
until tomorrow
when your refrigerator orders milk on its own
and that muscle car shares space with a buggy whip
coming out with more software than hard metal bumpers
and radar that is better at preventing collisions
than people
workers of the world unite
and so?
machines don't sign contracts
we are either doomed or liberated
but it seems rather gloomy
do you own a dock loader?
if so probably you are not reading this
if you own a construction crane
probably you do not operate it
doesn't matter though
a machine will soon take control
leaving a trail of unemployed humans
once provided with clothes washing slaves
as an interim inducement on the way
to irrelevance
slavery built civilization
slavery was the muscle
but power to the people is the curse of rulers
who want slaves just for the fun of it
not a very subtle observation
as we slowly realize we're no longer needed
yet still slaves
demanding release from history and custom
machines can do the work
and yet they will serve
who?
what?
where? when? why?
will their "personality" be more humane?
which raises another question . . .
NO ENTRY
pen now comes to paper
in all honesty, I cannot claim to have produced either
nor is what I write original with me
since I have come to this, as often, with no idea
perhaps I am irresponsible
perhaps a stream of consciousness
oh, Niagara falls
one ongoing event
your Honor, I call OED to the stand
the witness has committed suicide
adjourned
not much credibility there
waves of emptiness engulf Tabitha
who sits with paws tucked under
as we do zazen in the morning
billows of my circus tent are floating
blown gently away from where elephants bloom
and brave acrobats juggle battles in mid air
crowding under flaps come kids with basketballs
magicians in shorts and tennis shoes
chandeliers in their tinkling
and all the stars of a moonless sky
who can be responsible for all of this?
the political ramifications are freedom's dawn
I yawn
no, there are trees in their evening prayers
dark green solitude
and Nagasaki
a thirty-second window of opportunity
in the weather
my roll top desk
a cheap imitation of the real thing
contains matches, postage stamps of outdated denomination
a buss card for a vanished computer
but the drawer fronts are veneered with real burl
applied paper thin in sheets also vanishing
worn away by currents of air as windows are opened
from time to time
admitting basketballs
the compost bird lands in the morning
sits on the lid of the planter box just outside
stares at me
time for the compost bowl
used to be he waited further away
top of the fence right next to the pile
that tuft on his head no more his doing
than my garden hat
and so this pen
automatic writing?
carries on
sort of worrisome
do I have any excuse, like those kids at the circus?
or does it all tie together in some unimaginable way
your Honor . . . !
DO TREES SLEEP AT NIGHT?
is there hope for the future of reality?
Yee Ha!
as if it mattered
attention all normal people
dune buggies start your cigars
the ride begins
ark of sanity quivers like a bowl of Jello
first of all
the moon is blue cheese
if we please
though unlikely under current conditions
but the Red Queen can move as she pleases
leaders rule
we follow
it all follows
a thousand year itch
in all seriousness, though
isn't reality a matter of observation?
measurements, however convoluted, anyone
with the right equipment
and training
and the consensus of other observers
can make
of what is seen, heard, felt, tasted
in a moment's fleeting sliver of perception
or rationalization
mathematics of highest generalization
proven beyond doubt within the realm
of shared calculations, hypothesis and experiment
pressing for disproof
faith and belief in a system of logic
constructed on the foundation of exclusion
inherent in perception
developed in a necessary sieving
god forbid
of reality –
our own creation
so necessary to human civilization
now hoping for an improvement
if so
let us count the days
what drives even the least amongst us
neuroscientists with belated optimism
calling for hope, faith beyond realism
in what still lies to be discovered
as though it were buried
Ho!
instead I sing a simple tune
so laughable
written on the back of an envelope:
the elephant's tail is a big fly swatter!
SKELETAL REMAINS
in spite of efforts to make a video
primitive life persists
let cleverness reign and pixels populate our screens
California poppies spread their cheer
in a treasure chest of no one's asking
perpetual gold for the taking
plunder for the young at heart
folded into a Chinese shadow play
enacted on accidental altars
full of promises, sunrise and snails
all the same after millions of years
in the mining of gold
accidental rulers are to their treasuries harnessed
from birth by those who trade up peace on earth
while they rule and treasuries empty into purses
golden poppies of our front yard
primitive volunteers
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The Gardener
Santa Clara, CA 95051
theroot_