Invocation (for Mariposa) 10/07/13

Ah, this country,
where one has to dream of clouds...

I want to know the smell
of rain.
Let there be rain,
Let there be rain.

Oh, this house,
where the dry and weathered walls
still need a coat of paint,
and the roof a shingle or two...

But Your will,
not mine.

Oh, let there be rain,
I've been dreaming of rain.

The Other Life (for Melina) 10/07/13

In the darkness
of our warm ocean bed,
sometimes,
I find your hand and discover
it is a delicate wing,
or a seashell,
a bleached bone,
or a piece of weathered driftwood
from that sunlit and unknown shore
where you and I
make our other life
together

Genesis Meditation 10/07/13

Yes,
even before they were conceived,
they wanted to fly.
So, He gave them wings - that is, 
they were given wings

They wanted to run,
so He gave them hooves - that is, 
they were given hooves.

And we wanted to make.
So He gave us hands - that is,
we were given hands.

But wait, there's more...

We wanted to ascend,
so He gave us souls - that is,
we were given souls.

And with souls, we wanted to pray.
So He gave us hearts - that is,
we were given hearts.

And so, do ya see?
to whom do I pray?

But, do ya see?
to whom do I pray?

Jesus, they've whittled down to a man,
a cozy friend, offering a warm beverage
and some good advice.
And God,
whose circumference is nowhere
and a center that is everywhere,
is surely somewhere, but
I can't find anywhere.

And so,
to whom do I pray?
Who listens to my prayers?
Do ya see?

Simple

It's 4 AM and things seems pretty simple:
in this life I need a woman.
It isn't so much a case
of who I would chose,
but more about who would choose
to stay... to endure
with me.
Still, it seems to make sense,
male and female,
joining.
That's what this world is for.
If not, then everything stops.
It's not for me to judge this.
I did not make the rules.
Still, people debate,
attachment, non-attachment -
as if choosing one
will change anything:
the wave becomes a trough, the trough a wave;
it's still just salt water.

I thought this poem would turn out differently -
I thought it would be about me,
and my questions,
my aches and pains.
But look what has shown up instead:
the blue light of dawn,
a new day.

But the day will  have to wait.
For now, I return to bed and
the heat, the flesh and fur, the wondrous face
of the woman called Melina.

My Father

Found this old Polaroid of my Dad, sent to me while I was in Viet Nam (1966 or so). Mom must have taken it. He is standing in front of a couple-three oak-studded acres on the Sacramento River up by Anderson (near Redding) that he bought maybe for retirement. He was about 61 in this photo, born in 1905; a good man and I wish I had gotten to know him better - 39 years separated us and our differences seemed big at the time (in retrospect, they weren't - we both had a lot to learn). The property is long gone, but I thought I'd take a new picture - me at the gate of the place Melina and I have here in Mariposa... kind of an homage. So, here's to you, Pop, I miss you, I love you. 

Note: The Polaroid photo (top) has the typical fuzziness (they didn't put very good lenses on their consumer products).
Post note: Dad hunted the Calochortus (Mariposa Lilly) in its many forms, taking photos.  Here in Mariposa we will be planting a little garden of Calochortus, in honor of my father and his fondness for Mariposa lillies.