art poetry music #51

Opui 1821 1790 1832

Opi 1821 1790 1832


                          No Boundaries, 2001

Gayle paints poems in the butterfly breeze. Two boats

Shimmer in the morning sun.  Evalyn drops in. . . to clouds forming

On the western bank.  Last night a raccoon scurried. One deer,

Off the hill, looked, charged and jumped onto the dunes.

Dan has walked this circle thirty times, reminding materialist

Watchers that creation comes, shovel in hand, not from

Piling up, but tamping down. Seeds fall out of him,

Drop to the sand, coagulate, dry up and cause a laugh.

Imagine the control it takes to let it drop without the squirt

Of normal urgings. (It takes more control to deny the gifts:  to

Match philosophies — divine.)  So we march in happy paradise,

Using wits to develop efficiencies that will give our kids

A choice:  more freedom means more obligation, but how do

You get that through to Johnny sixpack?  Where is Jarrie

Going to sit: among the quintessential consumers, or

Back in a cabin, using little energy, but commanding

Electric friends via concepts and inventions so compelling

That, just like Curried Einstein, the tide runs toward new

Shores?  Days go by like blinks, Gayle ponders how

Much longer this slice will go, but she knows her

Evolution is many lives away.  Entangled souls expressing

Love’s constant yearning gather on this sunny island as

Wind and water wash it all away.  Robert, stick in hand,

Walks back and forth, waiting for the change that starts it all again.

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