What a tough slog all this is. Obama came to office with bright ideas, and look at the mire, the vortex of impossibilities he is in. More power to anyone who wants to weather the straits of that office! It seems to exhaust everyone if it doesn't kill them. One hopes for a renewal, a progressive run toward something genuinely wondrous in the world, and yet the day to day continuum of humanity is not some kind of flashing scene, nor is it a redemption about to occur with the magical words. Though I live in a perfectly good-natured old colonial town in Mexico, I still think the world is a convulsing intractable reality. Weighing in on all the turbulence, violence, poverty and sheer stupidity that prevails in the world, it is hard to think optimistically about what is coming. We came up as a species from lowly creatures who probably were as puzzled by reality as we sometimes are. I keep hearing about friends with relatives who are struggling with illness, mental instabilities, incoherence, and yet, from time to time I run into something that rallies the soul toward something grand. I have been here a while and can still praise amid all the lamentable conditions that prevail. I have been a bit lucky, and still find some space in which to sing.

Shoreward Drift

How much can you become aware of?

The stones on the shore, rolling,

The waves’ incessant rise & fall,

The distant island on the horizon

The paddleboarders on their boards standing,

The rocks sturdy in the sand

The sandpipers pecking the hard sand—

And you, walking slow up the beach,

Solitary, full of the shoreward slope—

The sandy bank gives way as you sit—

And what inner cohesion mystifies

The sense of wanting to be here forever,

Changeless magnificence of the Pacific,

Marvel of sunlight gleaming, joy of tiny waves—

A pelican out at sea, now diving,

Back now in flight—glimpses, rhythms

Insurrection of forms, formlessness,

Longstanding interests expanding, infinite

Santa Barbara

Nov 2009