Wednesday, September 26, 2012


(Desolate view with bench, Palo Alto Baylands)
The wind is as light as a silk shirt

Against my skin, neither warm

Nor cool, its sensuous caress comforting

Holding at bay, just outside my memory

The loneliness I feel tonight.


I’m like the last palm

Standing solo in the dunes

Dreaming of the days of groves and springs.

I’m like poor Ishi, alone in the mountains

Family a memory, wandering sick in the trees.

I’m the last dog who was just outside

The gates of Pompeii after

 the mountain gave way…


but the dog eventually wanders off

finds a way to live, finds other dogs

forgets Pompeii and his old master.

Ishi comes down to the white man’s town

Resigned to death at their savage hands

 and gets put in a museum.

The palm tree feels its roots dry out

Topples one day and finds a new career

In slow decay.


So, as for me

I walk along this ridge

Feel the silk of the wind

Celebrate the scent of sage;

Encourage the sweet darkening of night

Make friends with bats, lizards and stars

And go on

Holding back the loneliness until

Sleep overtakes me and I meet old friends

In the fabric of dreams.








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