What are we doing here
when we all have someplace else to be?
Refections in a silver eye
Return to Sender
Handle with Care
heavy smoke, seagull feather
(intricate rhyme schemes so tenderly forgotten)
We watched the quail, a hunting & gathering tribe, wander
thru the yard all day.
“They are an indigenous people.”
Crow
calls & chainsaws create a certain ambiance, no?
It looks like we’ll be here for a while
And later, a small rectangle of dark blue sky w/stars
transforms itself into a small graywhite rectangle of
fog at dawn. Only one way to get there, I guess we'll
need to install a handrail.
need to install a handrail.
“Excuse me.” “Is that you?” “Be quiet.” “Don’t go.”
“Listen.”
Sand pebbles say “We’ll be here long after you’re gone”
Seaslug: “Sorry I missed you”
__________________________________________
Composed in the Philip Whalen Memorial Hermit’s
Hut
at the home of Joanne Kyger &
Donald Guravich in Bolinas
Friday night/Saturday morning,
June 14-15, 2013
