Sunday 2/10/2013

Slept in late; some reading, some crochet
the uncertainty of Sunday

or rather the certainty that after Sunday
comes Monday.

the neighbor cranks up Bonnie Raitt while 
cleaning the dog's yard

The notes I once scrawled on "The Wasteland"
for a class

too many poets in their collected poems have
written "Olson said..."

gas is up to 3.96 at Valero, well that was
Saturday, today

it gets me to the beach. Bagpipers playing 
at the Shakespeare Society

once a going concern in L.A. but now washed
up on our shore

trying to build another "Globe Theater" in the midst
of artichoke fields

we walk; low tide at Moss Landing beach. Remember
the time...? I say. You say. See how

the surf tears up the crabs, distributing a leg
here, a claw there

Up ahead there be outlaws: a cowboy type gallops his
horse toward us, and back

Where's the giant squid? Hats and shoes floating in
from Japan? the tide

has flattened the sand for us. feels early, like 
January: still a beginning

things have happened, but i hear the 
gears turning

the numbers clicking. For dinner we eat
bitter melon

for once, it tastes good

Random lines from my bookshelf:

universe is part of ourselves

Olson said, 'The MORAL is FORM &
     nothing else and the MORAL ACT
     is the honest---"sincere" motion in
     the direction of FORM'

--Robin Blaser, "IMAGE-NATION 18 (an apple," Pell Mell