Zaca

Jangling down that beach road
in the old Baja beater

no windows    no doors
all gauges broken or missing

A part of the sky & mountains

Spontaneous laughter
Rolls out of my throat

Giddy
At my vastly improbable fortune

dreamy

    We reserve the word 'dreamy' to apply to that soft wind that arrives in the tropical heat of the Baja night, that runs across the Southern Ocean under a thousand Mexican stars & makes a little sleep possible on the flat thatch roof

Baja Revisited

After my return from the tip of Baja
And my delightful frolics
In that little corner of the ocean
That spans three-quarters of the planet,
I lean against my pillow
Under the old familiar bedlamp--
And when I lid my eyes
From a long day of travel
Voila! that underworld buoyancy
Comes streaming back,
Grains of sand float past my ears,
Buoyant also,
Specks by the thousand
black   &white   &gold mica,
a sublime hallucination.

sight

God’s sleek sword

Into the heart of the poet

Is this slender stranded

Optic nerve

That slays him

To every purpose

murphism #102

hammer-swing
    to close paint-lid
Zing! primer across my nose

frolic

Out the side of my eye

            I caught the high swing

            Of common seagulls

            Over Frobisher roofs

            South of San Jose,

            Merged into a mingle

            That turned to maybe hundreds,

            Loose,   aimless,   a chaos

            For its own delight

            That quickly became a sheer joy of flight,

            A winged camaraderie;

            “slipping the surly bonds of earth”

state park

In a circle
Around the ranger
children pass a bear skull