Monday, March 31, 2014

Disappearing Act

Today at the temple 
The air was clear 
The clouds were high 
Above the Santa Barbara 

The breeze was cool 
My mind ran hot 

Just like the old cars 
With their radiators steaming 
On the California mountain roads

Should I or should I not ? 
What will he think 
     And should I care ? 
Can I give up
     Must I not 
Which is 
Where and 
and why is it 
Always all 
My fault ?

I will not sit. 
I will merely bow. 
Myself and myself 

But then
I get 
Settled in
And ask for help 
From above 

As if by magic
I am transported to where 
My mind can get 
     Some air . . .
The poor overworked thing 
Allowed to rest 
To expand into 
     Whence it came 
The feeling of 
To again visit this 

The feeling of 

I give thanks 
I have found 
     This place 
This place inside 
Where I can go 
To disappear. . .

Do we have a choice?

What's it doing raining here?
- in the middle of a drought year -

They build and build
Another five hundred
Unit building 
More condos in the river bed
And then they cry and complain
Where will the water come from 
For these units
-As the rain water rushes to the 

Who are they?
Do they invest
From someplace 

My great grandfather 
Farmed oranges in 
Orange County 
Now oranges come from
Shipped to the millions of people
Who live

What do we do 
With the land 
With the place 
Where we live 
Do we turn it into asphalt 
And concrete?
Do we grow nutritious food 
And stroll in 
Gardens and 
In forests 

I suppose we 
Have a choice