SOME OF THE BEST:
4 November, 1998 |
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A Thought for Today
As a country we are too eager to forgive our politicians.
INTERMISSION
And we go on
still we go on
and we go on
you can see us go on . . .
April Fifth, 9:22 A.M.
Just now an earthquake moves
beneath me. Even as it ends, another shudder shakes the ground. A California fact. An
anniversary almost of that quake two, three years ago that jostled me from bed at six and
set the dogs to howling and caused a crack to run eye level down the front room stairs.
I cannot be shaken up. If I could I’d sway more willingly than most and go whichever
way the earth or some mover of the earth thinks I should go.
I’ve had my first inside the world and felt for sure I was it's axis. I’ve seen
the kings go by, though I’ll admit my vantage point was from some distance. For
derring do I’ve sailed through clouds more easily than I once floated on a pond.
However jerry built my life has been, I’ve felt there was solidity of sorts. In truth
there is, however little. I built what I thought needed building - some would say
security, I'd still say solidity for some one.
There must have been a blueprint once. Now, no trace of any master plan remains, as nobody
stops or stays here still.
I do not brood. I am not malcontent. I am not. Where once I had opinions good and bad of
what I’d done. Even to myself. I have no opinions now.
It, whatever that should be or is, is over, never started or never was. What I do have is
this life, half built - unfinished. Selfish though I can be, it was never made for me.
There are takers, just that. But, as I go out, there is no one here or up ahead that I can
give it to.
I wonder how long I can move, go through the motions, knowing what I know. How many years
or days are left. Why go through the motions anyway? I don’t know.
- from "Moment To Moment" 1973, 1975 |
THE FIRST |
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No matter when I start
that first day’s walk
along the tide’s white ragged edge,
someone’s been ahead of me.
I went at noon the first day,
ten the next.
Finally at sunrise
I started out
and on this very morning
I was up before the sun
guided by the whitecaps only
luminous in the dimming starlight.
When at last the light
began to rim the far horizon
I saw beside my own, new footprints
in the Monday sand
a larger imprint trailing on
ahead of me.
And beside the wide stride
on this quiet beach
the soft impression of a dog
who must have trotted
by his master’s side.
I’ve but one more morning
left to me
before I trade Tres Vidas
for the city,
but if I have to start out
down the beach at midnight
or before
I’m determined to confront
the brown beach man
who dares to think
he loves my ocean
more than me.
And anyway,
the ocean’s all
that I have left.
There won’t be anyone again,
but there will always be
sea water and sea things
to wash the memories
into one
another.
That’s a comfort
not to be taken lightly,
considering the sea
is all I have.
- from "Moment To Moment" 1973, 1975 |
