Fire Newt Waterfall Pool

Those Luddite Fire Bellied Newts
Swimming down in that cool bellied
waterfall pool
Deep deep down a fig tree spread its green
slick black wet rocks spilling
Paths strewn with wildflowers
The Industrial Revolution part 2
hasn’t been telegraphed yet to
those big eyed indolent dragons

John Muir

Against the building of a dam in a valley near Yosemite:

“These temple-destroyers, devotees of ravaging commercialism, seem to have a perfect contempt for Nature, and instead of lifting their eyes to the God of the mountains, lift them to the Almighty Dollar. Dam Hetch Hetchy! As well dam for water-tanks the people’s cathedrals and churches, for no holier temple has ever been consecrated by the heart of man.”
John Muir

In the Midnight Hour

I’d like to take you down
The river calls
there’s a great blue heron
heavy and graceful
the water howls
broken glass and tidbits
torn by the rushing
the rushing
of simmering water
it would be too easy
to make love there
where the sky devours
everything
and birds call free
men that think they should
or could
tame wilderness
are laid fools
grape vines wind their way
along banks
webs are spun and broken
over and over
this is the way
I’d like to take you there
We are like that heron
and the spiders, grapes
and the sunset fragments
washing away to the sea

Animals

My god, biking in the rain, soft wetness, drinking in light. This is good.

My desire to go to law school continues.

“There are two ideas of government. There are those who believe that if you just legislate to make the well-to-do prosperous, that their prosperity will leak through on those below. The Democratic idea has been that if you legislate to make the masses prosperous their prosperity will find its way up and through every class that rests upon it.”
-William Jennings Bryan, “Cross of Gold” 1896 at the Democratic Convention

Pincushion

Sworn to secrecy
he would not tell
what might fuel the words
which wished to explode

Ebony

Riding my bike by my old house
where I was such a foolish teenager
a car came barreling by blaring
red red wine
the same as when we sang at the top of our voices
there in that house
making up our own lyrics
sitting there in the summer
bats and mosquitoes descending
and we wrote
and made up ridiculous dramas and pranks
you telling me that people didn’t like you
because you were black
and I thought it another of your dramas
until I heard the yelling, the name calling
there was lots of free music today
raw and talented
like yours was
and I thought of you dancing away
from that cancer ridden body
there’s a little fence around my old house now
near where we broke a window
there’s one around your old house too, sometimes
my daughter rode up to me
she sang red red wine
and I missed you

Drifting Pollen

How the heat tangles up in my body until I don’t know anything anymore
And through this fuzzy head I don’t recognize the society I’ve stumbled into
I’m like an alien
weeping at the beauty
I long to be enveloped in something fully
a womb of seawater or a time machine traveling to
where love is all that matters
and we aren’t so damned alone

Forward

Forward, march….Whipping with military formation a forward going pace for my thoughts and emotions. Chikoko prepares for a performance, little green cherries line the branches, coastal weather snuggles up, Spring is upon us, shaping a realist life from the meanderings of a dreamy soul.

Wakening

An ode to that divinity in the sun streaked mountain
Orange suffused smoke rising from horizon
Feet wandered through dew dripping field
Declining to succulent shore
A meeting of skin and cool diamond luster
Fresh from storm air piercing lungs and hearts
Chill was life in beating stars
the earth breathing
The wood gathered up in strong arms
cut to build the fire
grown to meet the mountain
the one that can’t be smothered
try as one might

Revolution

He sat in the sun unblinking.

The night before he’d had a dream. In it, he spoke at length with Mr. Woolly Mammoth Popculture. They were dancing wildly to Slayer and the conversation began to take form in music. Locksmith asked what was the answer to it all, the purpose of life, the pursuit of heroism and how to do good in the world. Mr. Popculture aka “The Wool” was emphatic in seeking pleasure first. “Society now values personal technological goods above all else, the key to being a hero today is fame and/or wealth. Grow an app that builds the social network bigger and bigger.” Locksmith was dubious. “What about improving the environment, humanitarian efforts, creating peace? What about revolution?” Mr. Popculture, “Hey, look at how cool revolution looks when you filter it through this image changer on my screen.” “Whoa, revolution looks really stylish.” said Locksmith.

“What a weird dream.” he thought dazedly in the sunshine, a billion dollar check on his lap.

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