The sun had spot-lighted
IIIIIIIIIIa deeper pool

[ IIIIIIIIIIsilence IIIIIIIIII]

which shone of copper
& olives. IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII[ ]

You came too late to
IIIIIIIIIIsee it as the sun had moved
in the morning of course.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII[ c h i r pIIIIIIIIII c h i r p ]
I had wanted to share

the pool with you,

IIIIIIIIII[ , , , , . . , . , . , , . . , ]
IIIIIIIIII& so tried to explain it
when you arrived, but my
words were too thin

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII] ] wind [ [

& didn’t carry the weight
IIIIIIIIIIof the sun in water.

thirty cops stood on an NYC subway
IIIIIIIIIIplatform getting paid overtime as a crowd.

So we will have to settle
for them anyways, the pool

back into darkness

(recording of a spotted towhee)

IIIIIIIIIIsuch that we can’t tell it
is made up of sunshine embedded
diamonds buried beneath

the creek’s running
IIIIIIIIII& sounds of rocks singing.

whose deaths count towards the total?

Some of the rocks have been
underwater long enough
IIIIIIIIIIto grow thin strands of algae
trailing off like hair

being blown in the wind

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIa great blue heron flies
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIoverhead around 10:30 am

by a pillion rider on a
IIIIIIIIIIHarley driving down Hwy 1
this spring after the winter

[ is this what they meant in An American Tale that
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIthey were selling us as children in the 90s? ]

storms washed out the road
& crews came to bolster
IIIIIIIIIIthe edges against collapse.
Shining green in late morning

light this algae is holding

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIImale blue dashers mate in May, their
IIIIIIIIIIyellow-striped thoraxes

on against both the currents
IIIIIIIIIIof water & time,
knowing, as it does, that

IIIIIIIIII[ IIIIIIIIIIa new generation’s white ford bronco IIIIIIIIII]

this creek will soon
return to being a dried bed
IIIIIIIIIIwhere slumbers become
hibernation till an unknown

IIIIIIIIII[ a sparrow’s song is:
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII“Peace Peace, Peace, all my little children Peace” ]

date, & the denizens
will be the deer & coyote
IIIIIIIIIInot the goddess of the rivers;

IIIIIIIIII[ p i k p i k ]

she has given her life

in the cycle of seasons which,

IIIIIIIIII[ IIIIIIIIIIout past breakwaters, sometimes, just sometimes,, IIIIIIIIII]
IIIIIIIIII[ IIIIIIIIIIthe sun will shine heaven on a future IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIiIIIIIIII]
IIIIIIIIII[ IIIIIIIIIIthat we will have to write for ourselves IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIiI]

in California, has become
IIIIIIIIIIone sided against the streams
& inlets & headwaters

till we are all gasping from
dehydration.
IIIIIIIIIIBut for now the algae

IIIIIIIIIIwords IIIIIIIIIIfor IIIIIIIIIIthe

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIsound IIIIIIIIIIof IIIIIiiiiiIIIIIwater

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIon IIIIIhands IIIIIIIIIIin IIIIIIIIIIneed

IIIIIIIIIIof IIIIIIIIIIresurrection

joins the song the entire

bed sings, affirms that
life resides here at the moment.

Frank G. Karioris