Meditation at Brice Creek

Breeze blows-raven cries-water flows

Black fly buzzes- butterfly hovers

Sun sinks lower-sliver of moon crests

over ridge top- rapids undulate sliding down

through crevices into deeper channels

Birds sing- shade cools me- mind leaps

forward

Bend in river sings a lullaby

old wounds open and close like

shafts of light in the ancient forest

Sun moves farther westward descending towards

the horizon

Shadows follow me on the trail

among the silent groves

Sunlight fades into dusk- moon’s gravity pulls

the river currents- white water swirls in

the eddies.

At The Edge On Fugi Mountain

Waiting For The Next Flight

After flying out Of Denver on flight 485 on America West I am inside the Phoenix terminal waiting to board my next flight back to Eugene. Travelers with carry on luggage talk on their cell phones and move between other passengers on their way to departure gates. The football game flashes on the overhead screens above the seating area as I wait to board flight 6870. An announcement comes on telling other passengers that their delayed flight to Tucson is soon to arrive. The bright light of the desert sun glares through the heavy plate glass windows. Beyond the airfield hundreds of miles of suburbia sprawl out in every direction from the center of Phoenix all the way to Sun City. When the previous flight I was on began to descend, preparing for its landing into Phoenix I found it hard to distinguish where the center of the city was from the rest of the maze of vacation homes and resorts. Inside the terminal Starbucks, Pizza Hut, McDonalds and Burger King are reminders of the fast food global chain. A liter of bottled water costs $2.49. The label says its from pure mountain springs. Weekend travelers arrive at and depart from desert dreams. Freeway I-10 runs west from LA cutting through the heart of Phoenix then swings southeast down to Tucson and heads east to New Orleans. I-17 runs north up to Flagstaff and connects with I-40 going west to Needles California and east to Gallup New Mexico. Resorts and hotel chains in the Disney like oasis with islands of palm trees and golf courses crowd the desert floor and air-conditioned strip malls span out across the long grid. The football game blasts my ears where I am sitting trying to read a few pages of A Movable Feast. But I soon give up, surrendering to the distractions around me wishing I could time travel back to Paris in the 1920s during the bohemian era of Hemingway and Stein. The barren harsh baked terrain of the Sierra Estrella Range can be seen from the window at gate c-30. A recorded announcement comes on every 5- 10 minutes telling all passengers in the terminal not to leave any luggage unattended or it will be confiscated due to strict security standards enacted since 9-11. After the game is over Fox News comes on in between the 10 minute commercials giving their version of the situation in Iraq where the insurgents are attacking the US troops but our troops are beginning to overtake them they tell us. Meanwhile back in America they say the economy is improving and employment is on the rise. The commercials and the mistruths on the noise box in front of me never stops but in twenty five minutes the plane I have been waiting for will soon lift off above this wasteland of modern white-man’s deadly creations and smog filled skies. I passed through here ten years ago on Amtrak heading to Tucson back when life seemed to move a little slower. But now everything seems to be accelerating at a faster pace. My assigned seat is B-4 next to the window. I prefer a window seat when flying in the daylight. Years ago I had fear of even getting on a plane but now I realize life is dangerous anyway you look at it whether on the ground or in the air. As this suffering planet falls apart and other parts of it are slowly transformed into life giving energy I find the time to catch a few short breaths before the next lift off. It seems quite apparent that the great bird has not risen from its ashes yet.

Another Prayer For Babylon

This life is full of confusion and craziness.

Where there is order there is also a mess.

This is all an illusion it seems and

its time to head up to a high mountain stream.

This world is on fire raging out of control

with dictators and fascist rulers in power

pulling the strings manning the big nuclear guns

and killing off the natives.

The notes of a weeping violin soar like an eagle

across the dark skies above a country

full of lies.

One thousand babies are born and

another thousand die.

More endangered species are becoming extinct.

They call this life in the capitalist system

climbing the corporate ladder

for material gain.

You work and work until you go insane

and who said life was going to be fair?

It is the middle of August, a week after the anniversary

of Hiroshima.

The daily headlines say the inspectors still haven’t found any

weapons of mass destruction yet.

Look at the shifty eyes of the western world and its war machine

producing tons of bad karma.

Who’s going to pay for it all in the end?

Listen to the night wind howling through the raped forest

and take a deep breath and say another prayer for Babylon.

For The Homeless

It won’t be long before the warm nights will no longer give them comfort.

During the summer they do not have to worry about the weather

but only the bright floodlights of patrol cars scanning the riverbanks

where they are forced to move farther up the river to another place.

When the cold nights and the rain comes they will have to huddle close to

whatever will give them warmth and bundle up in layers of tattered clothes and

moldy blankets and holy bedrolls.

They will have to try and sleep under their makeshift shelters

and no fires are allowed wherever they go.

All they have to look forward to is the next meal at the mission or soup kitchen

and their prayers still waiting

to be answered.

Kurt Vonnegut

" But I myself feel that our country for whose Constitution I fought for in a just war might as well have been invaded by Martians and body snatchers."

Entropy

The traffic keeps flowing

and people keep moving

keep consuming, keep spending.

The seasons come and go

and the years pile up on us

like a scrap heap of worthless debris

with a few lessons learned the hard way

and many still to be learned

with what little time is left.