Pacifica - 'It's the Waves...'
I've ever come to eternity
is the ocean."
Quoting, here, from my poem, "Walking Around" and feeling the heartbeat of the sea in my dreams. I love it here, in Pacifica, where the sea foam penetrates every breath and the great clock of the earth unwinds in every wave. Yes, I do love it. I love the solitude here, despite all the other people living around here, the stacked little boxes of houses (a bow to Malvina Reynolds) in their doll house rows. I love the tiny polished pebbles, the daily search for jade:
was a wonder
I could name
only by color
or the inexplicable
For me then
against the brilliance
of that time"
Yes. And now, here I am, over that sand dune of age, on the other side of glory, the kind in the sheen of hair, the shining eyes, the unflawed smile - "how there's no climbing the sand cliffs quickly" (a line I left out of that poem, "Shells", but always think about for its inner truth. Now, the crashing, the cymbals of each count-down into eternity, the infinite punctuation of the sea as I am balanced here, to some, precariously, to me, luxuriously. I think of the cleverness of my life that lands me here as I think of the making of a poem by my "poetry guru" Robert Hass, something about the quizzical head of a jay poking out from its hole in a tree. Or maybe a woodpecker, something persistent. The fact of life that I am here to witness, even if just my solitude on this day.
And, this day, I'm off to the Watershed Poetry event in Berkeley, going to hear Bob read in the park. It's been a long time since I've seen him, not since that time at the White House for the Millennium Poetry Event. Then, I'm off to San Francisco, maybe to attend the wedding reception of one of the Mission's most prominent (and nicest) poets, Alfonso Texidor who is marrying a lovely women, in form and spirit. And, I may be deciding the next step in my fate today - I'm off to look at a work/live space in the Mission, about 3 blocks from my step-mother and little brothers.
I am leaning on the net. I am taking what comes to me. "The catch" (of my life) "is the sea." (from "On the Fear of Going Down")
view of my "backyard" from my writing desk