planting eucalyptus
as a windbreak
was a great mistake.
it burned furiously
unintentionally

and the Keys will be gone
after the deal we struck
with technology didn’t pan out.
whiffs of disaster
in piles

one’s time has shortened
into a lifetime’s
disappointing view.
sun, even now
unimaginable

Forget on waking everything
Forget the dreams
Today
Faith in tomorrow
Forget desire
And motivation
Last week’s vacation
Forget family
Friends
If you have any
Forget the things
That surround
Provide set dimensions

In this new life
This new day forget it all
As the pull of a current
Far out to a nowhere
Forgotten in this
moment of waking.

History is how many years ago?
when I was five, sure
older seems to others old.
Who decides if I lived through history?
if we are presently historic
in some proportions, and
Who decides when?
a moth my cat can’t catch
now history
a 4-year-old secluded
Kennedy died
a 4-year-old rushed to hospital
Beirut again Beirut
To think there is control
or logic in it
An accident, a bureaucratic
mixup,
Broken leg still limping
an historic fall.

This garden
where tulips
swayed in the wind
Those lips
with no rain
lasted, and now
new buds, perhaps a daisy
lilacs in bloom
and the corner bush
in a white cloak
like a bride–he’d say that
each spring
about another garden
The climbers starting to climb
and the ground vines
choking the ground,
columbine’s saffron
looking down.

May 31, 2014 it was a Saturday

Bureaucracy of Garden

To have walked over
ground continuously
Trod, they used to muse
which makes it sound heavy
akin to Trudge, cousin to
Drudge or a more active
Drudgery.
And I think for me gardening
is an aristocratic English affair
all sight, no sound
peaked interest, nothing profound
Just flowers there
by someone else’s keeping.