July
31, 2007 (I
was 62)
I’ve
lost some of the prolific solitude
the Island has formerly imbued
the slow breath of summer surf
cautious steps on wet stones to Akaka Falls
to cast intent on flower and fern
and darkening damp deeper view
where from insect rhythms and volcanic drums
inspired lava flows onto the page
I’ve made the invitations
cleared the runway and opened the door
become a bus driver and tour guide
a distributor of discount coupons
purveyor of geography and revisionist history
turned love of place into a place others love
left tart tropical fruit in the sun
to taint and over-ripen until
only hovering bugs can enjoy it
I have not found a way
to dissipate the rush or stall of traffic
to point out the off-ramps that lead
to the back roads of the right side of the brain
to the calm of the hinayana harbor
where each small boat drifts on its own quiet current
toward the mahayana cruise ship of common purpose
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