Morning, just enough time for a run on the beach
Before the day’s problems erode my sense of ease.
At water’s edge the ocean and shore had reached agreement.
Firm sand.
Into the second mile I ran into an impression
Of death drifting, just yards behind me.
Young and fit, I turned to confront the bastard.
“Do you want me--- NOW?”
I wordlessly demanded of the empty space.
No response, no echo in the prescient silence.
Standing at the waters edge,
Enthralled with my bravery,
Momentarily convinced of my transcendence,
I left Death defeated
Turned, and ran on.
I revisit that scene occasionally,
No doubt enhancing my recollection,
Not quite able to relive the breeze,
The warm soft air moving across the Pacific,
Or the silence that greeted my challenge.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
See America
America stretched.
3,000 miles and the clock disconnected.
Mountains, white only above 10,000 feet,
White-water rafting from California to the Saint Lawrence.
South of the Canadian glaciers
Late spring had captured the day.
Sweet cut grass smells pervaded America.
Woody Guthrie’s lyrics cascaded
From the 100 foot redwoods, through the high deserts,
Passed the ancient Indian ruins,
Into the sweet and sour
Of the cities.
Large cities with caged windows,
Small towns with libraries,
All part of the landscape.
What do I remember most
Of six weeks of exploration?
The beginning:
25 minutes of mistakenly filming the car’s dashboard!
What would I recommend?
See every thing, go every where,
With the possible exception of Butte, Montana.
3,000 miles and the clock disconnected.
Mountains, white only above 10,000 feet,
White-water rafting from California to the Saint Lawrence.
South of the Canadian glaciers
Late spring had captured the day.
Sweet cut grass smells pervaded America.
Woody Guthrie’s lyrics cascaded
From the 100 foot redwoods, through the high deserts,
Passed the ancient Indian ruins,
Into the sweet and sour
Of the cities.
Large cities with caged windows,
Small towns with libraries,
All part of the landscape.
What do I remember most
Of six weeks of exploration?
The beginning:
25 minutes of mistakenly filming the car’s dashboard!
What would I recommend?
See every thing, go every where,
With the possible exception of Butte, Montana.
Happiness
You can’t get too happy
By adding rooms to your house.
If bragging rights drive your path,
What happens when there is no audience?
Where ownership is the goal,
Mere use does not suffice.
Battlements are required
Lest someone or something infringe.
“Pursuing happiness” sounds absurd.
What hill do we climb?
Is there a posture consistent with the pursuit?
Can I measure my progress?
All wrong questions.
As we look at our life’s work,
Should we not stop and ask ourselves,
“ What process will likely move me
toward happiness today?”
Once asked, no Genie appears.
Oh yes, this takes time.
At the end I find only compromise,
What do I want/how close can I get?
By adding rooms to your house.
If bragging rights drive your path,
What happens when there is no audience?
Where ownership is the goal,
Mere use does not suffice.
Battlements are required
Lest someone or something infringe.
“Pursuing happiness” sounds absurd.
What hill do we climb?
Is there a posture consistent with the pursuit?
Can I measure my progress?
All wrong questions.
As we look at our life’s work,
Should we not stop and ask ourselves,
“ What process will likely move me
toward happiness today?”
Once asked, no Genie appears.
Oh yes, this takes time.
At the end I find only compromise,
What do I want/how close can I get?
Denia
10 AM brandy.
Count Frederick will join me.
Avenue Generalissimo is quiet
No cars permitted Sunday,
Denia, a tree lined coastal village,
Lies half way between Valencia and Alicante.
It features women in black, fully leafed Maples in May,
Omnipresent retired Brits and industrious Germans,
Who eat at 6 in restaurants that will be long closed
Before the French and Spanish start for dinner.
A useless dull black ceiling fan squeaks and turns slowly,
With no ambition to reach beyond its circumference.
Clouds of cigarette smoke are part of the ambience.
Fred and I lament his problems
Running a small development,
Of 2 dozen private homes,
Including my place.
Part of our ritual includes this question:
“Why would a Hawaiian Jew
Travel halfway around the globe
To live for months in a German enclave?”
He reminds me, not for the first time, that
“These Germans are of an age that argues
Their participation in The War,
And all of them could not have spent 4 or 5 years
In British prisoner camps in Scotland.”
I again explain that $10,000 US would cover our needs
And some extras if we lived full time in Spain.
Comfort in Hawaii comes at $75,000
We pour morning brandy Tuesdays and Thursdays.
I can’t recall how we established this schedule.
We discuss the absurdity of John Dean’s assertion
That Nixon was involved in the mess.
Fred takes his “Count-ship” seriously,
And is angling for an audience with
Queen Elizabeth.
Hawaii is too small and too distant.
Despite my urging, his forthcoming U.S. trip will not include
My homeport.
No phones in the houses.
No street designations.
In case of fire or break-in
Have sneakers and a gun.
My days are spent reading
And Joan paints.
It could not have been as comfortable as I recall.
Count Frederick will join me.
Avenue Generalissimo is quiet
No cars permitted Sunday,
Denia, a tree lined coastal village,
Lies half way between Valencia and Alicante.
It features women in black, fully leafed Maples in May,
Omnipresent retired Brits and industrious Germans,
Who eat at 6 in restaurants that will be long closed
Before the French and Spanish start for dinner.
A useless dull black ceiling fan squeaks and turns slowly,
With no ambition to reach beyond its circumference.
Clouds of cigarette smoke are part of the ambience.
Fred and I lament his problems
Running a small development,
Of 2 dozen private homes,
Including my place.
Part of our ritual includes this question:
“Why would a Hawaiian Jew
Travel halfway around the globe
To live for months in a German enclave?”
He reminds me, not for the first time, that
“These Germans are of an age that argues
Their participation in The War,
And all of them could not have spent 4 or 5 years
In British prisoner camps in Scotland.”
I again explain that $10,000 US would cover our needs
And some extras if we lived full time in Spain.
Comfort in Hawaii comes at $75,000
We pour morning brandy Tuesdays and Thursdays.
I can’t recall how we established this schedule.
We discuss the absurdity of John Dean’s assertion
That Nixon was involved in the mess.
Fred takes his “Count-ship” seriously,
And is angling for an audience with
Queen Elizabeth.
Hawaii is too small and too distant.
Despite my urging, his forthcoming U.S. trip will not include
My homeport.
No phones in the houses.
No street designations.
In case of fire or break-in
Have sneakers and a gun.
My days are spent reading
And Joan paints.
It could not have been as comfortable as I recall.
Courage: The willingness to embrace the alien.
It was not the weather or the steps.
No fault was found with evil spirits
Or an ineffectual god.
Fred fell and he claimed the failure.
Face down in the grass
He thought his foot detached.
Fear and anger lay with him
Two days spent recovering from surgery,
In an Old Folks Storage dump
Masquerading as a “Rehab” center,
Followed by an abbreviated home stay
Re-entering the hospital,
His surgeon pointing to the infected leg,
Indicated that “amputation” could not be ruled out.
I entered Fred's room dressed in a hospital shroud,
To find Fred and Carolyn speaking in tongues.
“He would avoid the longer wait for recovery”, she rationalized.
“ If its necessary, let s get it done”, Ray added.
“Wait, wait a goddamn minute!” I thought.
I could not stand their stoicism.
Peering over the edge,
Recognizing that the diabetically sponsored infection
Was insidious and relentless.
Carolyn and Fred are infuriating rationalists.
God help us and save us!
No fault was found with evil spirits
Or an ineffectual god.
Fred fell and he claimed the failure.
Face down in the grass
He thought his foot detached.
Fear and anger lay with him
Two days spent recovering from surgery,
In an Old Folks Storage dump
Masquerading as a “Rehab” center,
Followed by an abbreviated home stay
Re-entering the hospital,
His surgeon pointing to the infected leg,
Indicated that “amputation” could not be ruled out.
I entered Fred's room dressed in a hospital shroud,
To find Fred and Carolyn speaking in tongues.
“He would avoid the longer wait for recovery”, she rationalized.
“ If its necessary, let s get it done”, Ray added.
“Wait, wait a goddamn minute!” I thought.
I could not stand their stoicism.
Peering over the edge,
Recognizing that the diabetically sponsored infection
Was insidious and relentless.
Carolyn and Fred are infuriating rationalists.
God help us and save us!
Time
“Time” is immutable,
At least that’s one theory.
Our reality moves through today’s chunk of time
Staying constant, like a billboard,
As we move to the beyond.
Imagine, at 11:59 we hear a small motor.
A signal that the brain is gearing for tomorrow.
Could I run ahead to glimpse something of another time? No!
Running backward would not help.
We’re just stuck with “right now”,
186,0000 miles per second and not even a breeze.
So when your asked to “be here now”
You may reply “when in now?”
Of course we can’t spend our day waiting for tomorrow.
We have today’s chunk to deal with,
Eating, working, sex, haircuts,
Wars, showers, changing diapers all have to fit in there.
Our leaders can predict things that likely
Will engage our attention tomorrow:
“Between 8 and 11 AM we will pillage,
Followed by afternoon showers”
Should tomorrow morning bring a horrendous downpour of elephants,
You’d expect the Pillage to be cut short.
Carrying a super-strong umbrella as headcover makes pillaging difficult
Not to mention the insuperable challenge of elephant disposal.
I could imagine a congressional committee,
Named, perhaps, “The Alien Elephant Sub-Committee”,
Asking such critical questions as, “What kind of elephants are these?” or
“Which terrorist organization has elephant launching capabilities”?
My ”immutable” theory has not gained many adherents.
A small chocolate bribe left my 9 year-old grandson non-plus.
Once again, I find myself seeking recognition in some future chunk of time.
And who really knows about tomorrow’s precipitation
Or what time it is?
At least that’s one theory.
Our reality moves through today’s chunk of time
Staying constant, like a billboard,
As we move to the beyond.
Imagine, at 11:59 we hear a small motor.
A signal that the brain is gearing for tomorrow.
Could I run ahead to glimpse something of another time? No!
Running backward would not help.
We’re just stuck with “right now”,
186,0000 miles per second and not even a breeze.
So when your asked to “be here now”
You may reply “when in now?”
Of course we can’t spend our day waiting for tomorrow.
We have today’s chunk to deal with,
Eating, working, sex, haircuts,
Wars, showers, changing diapers all have to fit in there.
Our leaders can predict things that likely
Will engage our attention tomorrow:
“Between 8 and 11 AM we will pillage,
Followed by afternoon showers”
Should tomorrow morning bring a horrendous downpour of elephants,
You’d expect the Pillage to be cut short.
Carrying a super-strong umbrella as headcover makes pillaging difficult
Not to mention the insuperable challenge of elephant disposal.
I could imagine a congressional committee,
Named, perhaps, “The Alien Elephant Sub-Committee”,
Asking such critical questions as, “What kind of elephants are these?” or
“Which terrorist organization has elephant launching capabilities”?
My ”immutable” theory has not gained many adherents.
A small chocolate bribe left my 9 year-old grandson non-plus.
Once again, I find myself seeking recognition in some future chunk of time.
And who really knows about tomorrow’s precipitation
Or what time it is?
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