|FORMER NEW GLASSES|
I found my new glasses at the top of the street, all the pieces on the pavement, flattened by the weight of cars that ran them over and over.
I'm sure I left them on the trunk of the car in the garage when I headed out to walk Maddie and Morgan a few days ago. I know this routine, this is the 2nd pair I lost and then found flattened on the street a few days later.
The broken eye glasses reminded me of a poem I wrote in 1978 when I was living in Redlands, CA with Dixie Kanold and her older sister. The visual in AFTERNOON: a broken lawn chair, last strap about to tear.
The first few lines…..
broken lawn charm
instead of Rand.
One line asks
do you drink the water or the wave ?
One line tells me
September is only a page away.
Do you drink the water or the wave ?
I've always liked that line, I am not sure if that's from the John Fowles book I was reading at the time or not. Sounds like a Pablo Neruda question from his collection, The Book of Questions.
What is the distance in round meters
between the sun and oranges ?
Who wakes up the sun when it falls asleep
on its burning bed ?
Does the earth sing like a cricket
in the music of the heavens ?
Is it true that sadness is thick
and melancholy thin ?
In the middle of autumn
do you hear yellow explosions ?
By what reason or injustice
does the rain weep its joy ?
Which birds lead the way
when the flock takes flight ?
From what does the hummingbird hang
its dazzling symmetry ?
If all rivers are sweet
where does the sea get its salt ?
How do the seasons know
they must change their shirt ?
Why so slowly in winter
and later with such rapid shudder ?
And how do the roots know
they must climb toward the light ?
And then greet the air
with some many flowers and colors ?
It is always the same spring
who revives her role ?