they say it is 'local's summer now'

they say it is 'local's summer now' 

good until after october 

on monday morning 9 am there's 4 people

including me i walk from end to end of the bay 

there's some flower heads and orange peels 

the ocean devours all of it while leaf blowers

discreetly manicure the terraces 

one of them has a traffic jam of greek statues

all of then facing towards whatever house 

is behind the blowing sunshades and pediments

but even money and a splashy pad cannot 

keep the ocean at bay as it inches up and up 

ready to wash every bangle and brass sundial

seized engulfed

with the love of water until they dissolve

until you can't tell the water from the substance

and dark in the abyss that awaits

electric blue and inviting on the doorstep

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intensive mediation 5 week retreat

intensive mediation 5 week retreat

i could see out the window of the place we sat

over boundless hills blowing in the wind

two horses stood next to one another in bliss for hours 

while a black bull sat in the grass not far off

also in a peasant trance while some of us 

struggled to let the iron will go and abide for 

even 20 minutes 

let me tell you about what i think between sessions

entertaining stories with a twinkle in my eye

i can relate going to japan greece or mars

investing and uber drivers and doordash fables too

how wide is the world and 

ha ha ha  ha   ha 

it is even harder to meditate than to die

(some say dying is easy)

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.

on hot summer days without a stain in the sky

on hot summer days without a stain in the sky

they pull people out of the ocean regularly 

dead, sometimes alive 

see how the sand moves remaking the bay

tourists arriving hunting for the best spot  

at dusk beach towels/ toys are left behind

i walked through a spider's web down 

on the way to the cove

the spider didn't cry 

---

this series of explanations like old oven mitts

i had an amazing dream last night
that was a whole poem  

it was bright it was rare

it soared you'd say gee whiz

and now waking i can't

even get it to fit into this jail

this tube

this box

this rummage sale

this series of explanations like old oven mitts 

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i had five or ten poems

i had five or ten poems

pass me in the last week or so

most seemed to be pretty good

but i didn't write them down 

now i see them in the distance

they pretend they don't know me 

o poet

this isn't like fishing and saying

what big ones got away 

put a pen in hand and grab

the first thing you can write on

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