THE GROVE

She walks slowly, the streets
she once knew well, so much changed
by time and memory released into the fog.
It is hard going back when back
is no longer there, where the store you owned,
a place where you spent countless hours
is now a sandwich shop, and
so many others gone altogether
for modern brick, concrete and glass.
Still there is a T-shirt which she
will wear as a badge of what was,
a play she will never forget, as I
remember the park in Salt Lake City
were mescaline and blotter acid
made the maples float above the ground
and we sat in the summer rain
and imagined golden butterflies
but that too is gone as are all
of the coconuts that once filled this grove.

LOOKING BACK FORWARD

Between now and eventually lies all of history. We are unable to see it
though it lies in our field of vision. That’s the problem, we only know
how to look backward. We are barely able to see where we are. It isn’t
that we don’t want to be here, merely that here is difficult to see, for
we have a tendency to block our vision. Imagine a map with an X or other
marker saying “You are Here.” Yet seeing that we know we are not there for
in that instant we will look down and see where we truly are. But the better
statement to the “you are here” sign is not to call it wrong, but rather
to simply ask it, how did you know. It will answer, your visit was history
lying between my now and my eventually.

0 OR +1?

The real question,
the true heart of the matter,
is whether this is the first
day of a new year,
as she believes, or merely
the day after the last day
of the year,
as he would have it.
They have this discussion
once each year,
and they never resolve it
for eventually they grow tired,
and the day is gone
before they do.
They promise to conclude
the next time around,
but by then they will
have forgotten most
of their history
and will grasp
the novelty
of the old argument anew.

AROUND

What they simply cannot understand
is what his take as a vinyl disc
is a moment in a life, a memory encased,
over which a dancing stylus bleeds dreams
and a history of time is written
on the back of its sleeve.
They cannot grasp that music
doesn’t fit neatly in your pocket,
that your neck can grow tired
from the weight of the headphones
bringing voices and instruments to life.
They want all of life portable,
we only want to sit, to be anchored
and watch the disc and our lives
spin slowly around, in a musical kinhin.

FINIS

When it all ends,
just what will you
being doing
the moment before.
Of course you cannot
know, for you have
no idea just when
it will end. And
if it ends as a result
of your actions,
then you won’t know
that it is your action
that is ending it,
so that is no winner
in this game.
And before you
get lost in thought,
ponder this simple
concept deeply first.
Since I haven’t told you
what it is, you
can’t know even
when it ends.
And by the way
it just did.

EVERYWHERE BUT HERE OR THERE

It is odd, when you stop
and think about it, that
our sense of place is dictated
by places other then here.

For centuries we were the center
of the universe, and all
celestial bodies moved around
us — without us, no movement,

but if t here were no suns, moons,
planets or stars to see then we
ceased wholly to cosmically matter,
an unsettling state at best.

Now we know our little corner
of the galaxy, our planet, country,
our city, our neighborhood, our –
but what we don’t want to acknowledge

is that our requires not our, here
demands there, and we, as
history has repeatedly demonstrated,
requires they, which means you.