Musical Lore

Peace that is not peace.

Friends who are not friends.

I spent much of my life

trying to get what I couldn’t,

watering plastic flowers with polyurethane petals.

(They were perched on the porch sill after all.)

Ever the fool and the wit,

I convinced myself they were real,

I got on with it—this love

that is not love.

Now, finally, at last, it all fits.

Oh, idiot! Savant!

In two places at once,

this you that is not you.

Friend, I’ve seen you on the corner, waiting for the bus.

Yup, reckoned you were new ‘round here – welcome. Lemme show you around.

Here: essentials – toilet paper, paper towels, toothpaste, kind of thing you need right when you need it. There: grocery corner – couple of lemons, onions, garlic, always oranges and bananas. Canned stuff. ATM.

Oh, don’t mind Major, his bark’s worse than his bite. He’s usually back behind the counter, except when I’m on break and he’s off to the dog-park. Yup, he knows the way.

One block from Haight Street but, like the sign says: “Lower Hate”. That’s what we’re all about. You need water, a bite to eat? We’ll take care of you. Lights out in the neighborhood? Grab some candles, loan you a flashlight.

The coffee’s bitter, but it’s cheap and we have plenty.

Hang on a sec, ‘nother customer. BRB.

We herein present an account of a remarkable association between the flower and the human.

It seems that a member of our chrysanthemum collection, a C. Leucanthem, became divergent in its color when humidity was severe and the moon full. Its colors were apparently never before seen in this genus, and viewers were unanimous that it was unknown. In every case, after watching the flower for only a few seconds, the observers began to cry.

Workers, managers, children, octogenarians - everyone without exception cried. It was the color, they said. We presented the flower later that day, but all observers claimed no longer susceptible.

Here was a flower that changed its composition, penetrated human neurology, and causeduncontrollable emotion - the crying was happy, not sobbing or wailing. If the same conditionsthat created the phenomenon also generated the humans’ response, this is certainly one ofthe most unusual of earth’s natural wonders.

Does it all add up to zero
in the eyes of the distant stars— 

the little kisses along the chin 
our towers all eventually learning
our mortal languages 
the newest metaphors still hot as ingots 
our bubbling planet cooling toward frost

In the eyes of the stars
our bodies
are mere transparent jelly 
our loves
just a story
with chemical words 

The stars gaze on the future demise of our species
impassive as gangsters

Or is it we
who point to the stars 
and lap up their sparkle
knowing they also dazzle and die

Green volcanic glass
Brilliant orange lichens
California condors making lazy circles overhead
We paused in a moment of silence
for a wayward mole who never made it home
Below the wildflowers blooming in April
And above the geologic monoliths soar--
the spewed volcanic lava and rock
from 23 million years ago
their molten and fluid forms still seemingly in motion
Across a crevasse
like a Chinese brush painting
sheer rock faces dotted with single gray pines
clinging to ledges too narrow
to park a bicycle
And in the serrated knife-edge slot remaining
Between the violent uplift of
Machete Ridge and Balconies Cliffs
Beneath the compacted pressure
of a millenia's worth of
boulders which have tumbled, ricocheted,
fragmented, eroded and lodged
sealing out daylight
making way for bats
There--
one must crouch, creep, wade, splash,
arc into unfamiliar shapes
to gain passage
between the proverbial
rock and a hard place
to peer into the darkness
and marvel