Freeways And Wildlife Sanctuaries

You can hear the seagulls and the breakers slightly off to one side

While the semis jake brake and the cars whiz by the Amtrac trains on the other

They are protecting several tiny endangered plant species found only here -

In the slope up to the freeway exit behind another new Super Target

The elephant seals have begun to re-appear after being mass-slaughtered a century ago

Priuses tailgate Cadillac SUVs in unending lines through smog-enhanced sunsets

There is a green recycling bin by each one of the many public garbage cans

But, Yosemite valley is a twisty, overcrowded maze of dusty, half-lost traffic

The bread is good and there are organic fruits and vegetables readily available

Stores and houses crowd the farmland down to the tiny coastal butterfly reserves

Progressive is not an insulting word and alternative thinking abounds

The radio dial sports more Christianity than Country but less than Spanish FA-MA

They are protecting the beach nesting areas of the endangered snowy sand plover

Thirty-five million people already live here and more arrive every single day

There may still be good, un-crowded surf breaks just a short ways up the central coast

They pipe stolen water 500 miles to try and quench LA’s vast unending thirst

Chances are a freeway will take you to that remotest wilderness area

It’s all handicapped accessible and the poor earn money collecting all the recyclable litter

The gasoline pumps are fitted with vapor-trapping devices to fight the air pollution

Retirees carefully fuel their 70’ motor homes which tow monstrous SUVs

Bears roaming through the campsites are exciting nighttime entertainment

Having a flat out on an urban freeway might just cost you your life

They got commuter trains and carpool lanes and a host of ecological tax incentives

Quite often you don’t have an average speed, stalled somewhere out on The 5

The economy is hi-tech, service-oriented and among the world’s largest

Swarms of the brown people’s decrepit vehicles surround a myriad of small plots

The climate is mild along the coast, tending towards forgiving and inviting

There really is no end to the traffic but sometimes it’s a little lighter

Volunteer ‘docentes’ help to raise public awareness of the treasures to be preserved

It’s really hard to tell if they are moving ahead any faster than they fall behind

Cute little signs urge us not to dump because these drains all flow into our bay

Still, Tijuana, but 10 miles down, pours all its raw sewage into the ocean every day

These people buy more hybrid cars than any place else on earth

Their mammoth shining RVs consume power like apartments in slow motion

Every owner counts on the high six figures and above from the investment that is their home

The lucky urban poor raise children at campgrounds, fairly near to where they were born

They are protecting the fuzzy otters in the lush green kelp beds just offshore

Their organic spinach infected with migrant E. Coli sometimes finds its way into our markets

Vagabond Koans (1)

West Slope Sierra

Utterly impressed by their sheer size

They made sure they could cut them down

Now only giant stumps lay decomposing

neither logging nor tourist jobs remain

………

in the land of milk and honey, organic internet

there are still small towns with real people

where a young man might make a living for a family

while thirty million thirsty souls swarm the smoggy cities

………

basso profundo pickup truck

shatters peaceful predawn stillness

dumbass rumble at last dissipates

merciful silence refills his empty space

………

in the creaking breeze awaiting,

the stroke of god in the sunlight

bursting out with pregnant silence

mere sequoia emitting oxygen and grace

………

buying wood for the metal campfire ring

to cook the trout dumped from a truck

locked safely within his mobile modular

behold the happy camper

………

warm against the autumn frost

quiet there beside the lake

soaking in that radiant silence

full moon sets at nearly dawn

………

still gurgling over polished autumn granite

slurping into holes and eddies

sierra stream carries on its business

and then the reservoir

………

from out the wide smog-choked, dusty central valley

sheer sierra wilderness rises to catch the snow

the big trees and bigger mountains soar

barely beyond it spreads that awful desert

No Need To Protest Once They're Done

It’s hard for them to miss what they were too young to have ever seen

There’s just no sense in protecting anything that’s been gone so long already

Once they’ve disappeared there’s no need to fight over their extinction

Won’t have to try and save it if it was bulldozed so many years ago

There’s no point in boycotting that new Wal*Mart once the doors are open

Ain’t no way to stop this self-destructive process that we know simply and surely as progress

They aren’t going to get worked up over your old and faded pictures

It won’t matter anymore, anyway, when nobody else remembers

Once it’s been so hot for a hundred years no one alive will know any better

Just bulldoze those native artifacts and keep the work on schedule

Soon you won’t even be able to imagine how this all was before we came

They’ll say, ‘There’s no way you could have ever swam in this awful river’

No need now to preserve what’s been paved beneath this parking lot

Who cares that, over there, was where we used to keep our horses

Won’t make a bit of difference anyway, after a couple million years

No sense in arguing after all the trees are cut

Anyway, there’s still a few of them left, over at the zoo

Don’t have to file suit now since that marsh has been all drained

Forget about the bag limits, all the good fish are gone and the rest are full of poison

Why, they never even took the time to listen to all them songbirds, anyhow

No need for public hearings once it’s been graded flat and all paved over

It’s probably just always been really noisy around here, in any case

Can’t let the bears live too near our kids in their happy new backyards

It’s hard for them to try and restore what they neither created nor destroyed

Once we’ve broken ground there’s never any more objections

So, what actually was the point, in the way it was before

No way that this was ever just quiet rural farmland, in any case

When we are done, nobody will even listen to those squishy whiners

They won’t fight for things now gone, so far beyond their imaginations

Once we’re done extracting, there’s no profit whatsoever in restoration

Now that there’s this new road through here, why not add just a strip mall alongside?

After that, some cheap apartments over there won’t make any difference, anyhow

It’s gonna happen one way or another, so might as well get in on the money

They can fix up their little yards if they really need to try and make a difference

Now that it’s gone it’s just some NewAge fairytale to be dismissed with raucous, scornful laughter

No need to get offended now, it’s all been settled in accordance with our laws and tradition

Vagabond Koans (2)

A Sierra Weekend

struck me as quite amazing

almost made me stop and think

took that moment between two breaths

to come back to good common sense

………

under strict orders they toiled thru the days

driven on by critical deadlines

lives anxious with meaning, lay awake at night

moving holes from one spot to another

………

lovely turnout with short trail to the overlook

stepping free of the vehicular cocoon

attaining the uplifting vista point without a real effort

satori moment digitally marked and the soft drink can

………

in battered cars they roam in old and dirty clothes

living off the fruitful grace of the land

shitting where they sleep and moving on again

ugly, old and noisy children, left out on their own

………

full of piss and vinegar they come

loudly announcing a strong and musky presence

breaking branches and dropping rocks

young men stride the forest like your average mall

………

stream that cut rock a million years

spoke to me for just one moment

telling me the entire story

and I could merely sigh in wonder

………

Far away even before they leave

Recreation quickly once more forgotten

Blur of packing and fast driving

On an almost Monday, once again

………

We moved between sunlight and shadow

the river changing sides

While another afternoon gave way

As that autumn passed on by

Vagabond Koans (3)

The Hi-tech Seaside Ratrace

Tearing out fenceposts and chopping down billboards

Overturning gas pumps and upsetting microwaves

Throwing down cell androids and smashing new iPhones

Dreaming again, I awake feeling refreshed

………

The president is to address the nation

Mass media picks up the proper sound bites

His makeup is good and his tie is correct

Well he delivers those choice words of others

………

Fierce Renaissance corporate Amazon

Hard-driving executrix /Slash/ loving mother

Stalled in traffic with her electronic organizer

sips on her strong espresso thru a chiseled face

………

Feeling bottom, standing up, pitching over in a splintering crash

Spuming wall of white water rolls

Vaporous hissing rush up the sand

Another swell has arrived

………

Making rapid progress towards goals as yet unspecified

Hypnotized by the grand illusion shared by the hive

Ever storing up even more saved up time

Constant acceleration towards eternal oblivion

………

Cypress lapping predawn fog

Sound of waves from left to right

Silence oozes through the background

Time to be ready to be free

………

Master of the universe in yet another silver BMW

Possessed of many exotic baubles he cannot understand or afford

In an endless marketing loop of material-based self-actualization

Considers the smog-encumbered sunset, stalled again on the freeway

………

Snoring loud enough to wake us up

Deaf beyond alerting us

Farting and dream kicking the nights away

Dear old dogs, we love them so

Vagabond Koans (4)

NorCal

With every footstep dirt appears

Each activity makes a mess

In this fate of repetition

Why wipe the dust away again?

………

Chilly fog evaporates before a stiff damp breeze

October sun rolls over to sleep some more

Still the somber colors begin to reappear

Sharp bird calls pierce the sound of surf

………

Jumbled strata lie exposing multi-million years

Running free to the limits of their ropes on a Friday night

March of the seasons turning into long-term planetary cycles

Little Monday banking on small Friday once again

………

they reach out to grab but not to touch

they raise the volume to overcome their din

they strain to see for all their bright lights

they shout over top their simple thoughts

………

I sip my coffee condensing my latest dreams

Make good meals, stay clean and fit

Travel slowly between peaceful shelters

Play some music, read a book

………

always taking the easy path

peaceful gurgle around the boulders

quietly lapping on sandy shores

river talking where it is hurried

………

big plans for adventure with new skills

confidence born of inexperience

a foolish move at the wrong  moment

well-deserved and painful lesson learned

………

in the twilight, a forest road

off beyond the traffic noise

stately evergreens and a tinkling creek

thick pine needles beneath our bed

Quietly Late Last October

Autumn paused just for a moment amidst the golden sunshine

Held its breath and listened before quickly disappearing

The warmth of those late October afternoons was far sweeter

Knowing well how cold rains would fill the dark days to follow

After the salmon had spawned and little remained for the bears

There came a subtle pause as their noses twitched in that pure air

With waterfowl departing and the streams low and very clear

Dying leaves began their gentle drifting down, to fertilize the ground

Echoes also grew fuller with the lengthening of our shadows

The morning sun greeted us later and the stars came out so soon

The harvest moon looked warm but we reached for our sweaters

The hunters finished their epic drinking bouts and returned to their jobs

Quietly late October removed her costume and set aside her lovely jewelry

Slowly revealing a deeper and more somber aspect of her beauty

Silence filled the early mornings until the remaining birds shook off the frost

The sky grew deep and blue awaiting the first of many storms to come

Dust motes gathered to float one more time before falling with the rains

The fingers of the boys grew cold as they pedaled off upon old bikes

Rivers thirsted for the many long and quenching, cleansing winter rains

Craggy peaks awaited the deep, white blankets of their heavy snows

In sunlight and shadow she paused as a faded memory was awakened

The true smell of wool and a crackling dry campfire sustained him now

The raucous crowds of summer fled with the warmer weather

And that good silence flowed off into the void again, for minutes at a time