|
 |
TODAY
Where Moraga Meets the Great Highway
The 13th of March of 2008 |
|
|
|
|
I stand by my car and let my eyes
roam out and up.
I encounter a symbol of radiance,
of things hidden even from the hands
of their creators.
The multiplicity that comes from the
sacrifice of the one,
flows in a forgotten carving
and reigns over this space.
May the voyage be fruitful.
|
|
A single place contains all
and in the distance I can see
the many that are contained
in the tender grasp
of a quiet windy corner
by the ocean.
|
 |
|
 |
In the shadow of the tree
I find a strange mystery
a sign of remains and of memory,
of other times and of other purposes.
Here there is a small altar of darkness,
a shiny covering of thoughts
and desires
itching to burst up
and find their way back
to the surface.
|
|
|
|
I am here but I am not.
Which me now walks back home
tired from a not so truly eventful day?
Which me brings the groceries in paper bags and looks for the keys while wandering
why and how and when?
Which me slides among us
trembling with waves of recognition
as the strange world
rushes in to find an open eye,
a hungry mouth
tearing at the sinews of its delicate flesh?
|
 |
|
 |
The distance is a source of calm,
it places things in proportions that are
at least understandable
to a brain that crackles and pops
and needs a simple taste of
understandable waters.
The lights are green but
they will signal nothing
unless the car is turned on.
I will attempt to meet you halfway.
|
|
In the gaps,
in the blowing sand
and the scarred cement,
is where the whole story lies.
A convoluted story
of half truths and
unacceptable deformations,
but the sand holds it in
the warm embrace
of an eternal tomb.
|
 |
|
|
|
 |
Within this very sand,
somewhere underneath
its heavy dry expanse
lies my friend,
my wife,
my human heart
and my Self.
Waiting there where I buried
me
so long ago
in a glorious moment of fire
and self destruction.
|
|
And as I lose the thread
for an instant
I see the Other.
There is an Other who has recognized
the moment
this moment
the only moment
and is now hard at work
in the process
of making it Eternal.
|
 |
|
|
All my body wants is rest,
a place where it can find a steady foundation,
where it can let go of pain and effort
and the electricity can stop rushing
quite so intensely.
May I soon rest,
and allow this moment to slide away,
like so many others.
But not yet.
|
|
|
|
In the wish for rest
lies hidden the wish
for safety.
And the house embodies that wish,
it calls me and tells me inside
everything is calm and warm,
and the efforts become surmountable.
I know it's not so.
I know behind the windows
is another me
dreaming of being outside
away from this place of solitude.
|
 |
|
|
And outside
beyond the reach of the walls,
the containers,
the delineated rectangles and cubes
that signify civilization,
lies the remain of what once was,
slowly finding a new form,
but clinging desperately to the old.
Here, with my old memories,
my visions of unreal pasts and
parallel possible futures,
a piece of crumpled paper
lies burning in the sun.
|
|
And that which made it
and that which held it
and that which now holds me
that which now makes me,
is now clear.
How precious and how elusive!
So expensive, so rare,
and yet so eager to be wasted.
Let it flow in me today.
Let it build upon itself and resonate within me,
here on the Great Highway
where it meets Moraga...
even if the wind is strong and cold
and the human Self
longs for the gentle forgetfulness of the dark.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
