Sunday, June 16, 2013

The Thin Line Between Friday Night & Saturday Morning

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.

“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