"Progress"

(Pounded out on the evening
Of October 1, 2010).

Melding the ancient with the modern
Creating a new work, a fresh perspective
The ancient stones arranged in a linear grid
The craft of antiquity, sculptures of marble
And bronze, now portraying in ways anew
Universal human truths newfangled
Contemporary issues and obsessions
Techniques, materials, myths of old
Recombined, rethought, reimagined

Refusing to simply duplicate
Nor desiring to merely replicate
But seeking to uniquely create
A personal interpretation, expression
Seemingly slow
Still, serene past
Juxtaposed with the rushing, dashing,
Moving, jolting, hustling, steam engine
Drive of the future—or rather the present—

Desiring a slower time
A time of refreshment
Still constantly pressing forward
Relaxation
Continually pushing onward
A quieter time
Barreling ahead into the unknown
A return to the garden
Ever enticed by the siren call of “Progress”

"Image"

(In reflection on the Gerome exhibit
At the Getty Center in September 2010).

Imagining an ancient ruin
A resurrection of sorts
Recreating a distant land
A period far beyond our own
A culture only partially preserved
A people few have understood

Seeking to see as they
To feel as they felt
To explore the exotic
To discover the universal--
The human

Traits and tendencies surpassing periods
Transcending time and circumstances
Reaching beyond borders and boundaries
To find ourselves, our place in the cosmos
And to discern the Hand of God
The Image of the Almighty Beauty

"Spouts"

(Composed at the Getty Center
In September 2010).

Nestled ‘neath the stairs
Alone at a table for four
Listening to the bubbling
Water pouring from dozens
Of spouts in the fountain
Gushing day and night
Always in the same spot
Time after time
Constantly flowing
Perfectly in sync
In one long row
As marching soldiers
Never turning to the side
Yet standing side by side
No interaction
No relationship
Just spouts shooting
Springs of recycled water
Always kept pristine
Remaining untouchable
Save by the curious toddler
Or the starry-eyed lover

"Filled"

(Upon purchasing a new journal
On September 18, 2010).

Lovely leather binding pages
Sparkling with their silver edge,
Blank lines awaiting fulfillment.
Space for thought, room for
Expression; quiet moments to share
Beneath a blossoming cherry tree,
Beside the glittering open sea,
Amongst a pile of golden leaves,
Amidst the blustery winter winds
Pages fluttering and drops of rain.

Pristine now, crisp and clean,
Coffee stained soon to be, crinkled
Corners bent and shimmer dimmed.
Not worth a dime, yet treasured book;
Silent confidant for secrets shared,
Archive of fears, some joyful years,
Vial of tears and chocolate smears.
My life sketched with ink, not lead,
Encapsulation of my soul,
When the pages will be filled.

"Commuting"

(Composed upon returning home
Wednesday, August 25, 2010).

Commuting...there is always traffic,
Especially now Imperial Highway
Is littered with orange cones and
Seemingly spawning caterpillars.
Slow signs label the lanes and
Road construction ahead forebode
Blinkers and barrage of break lights,
Beeping car horns, and blare of rap.

The car ahead cuts into the right lane
Nearly colliding with my neighbor.
"Crazy driver!" I mutter aloud.

Light turns red and I'm stopped
Diagonally behind the Pontiac;
Its back window quickly lowers,
Expecting flash of a singular digit.
Instead, it simply rolls up again.
Reaching the top, it descends once more,
Then rolling upward, tiny fingers appear
Over the edge, skipping 'cross glass,
Playfully following the window's trek,
Flitting as a butterfly among buds,
Soaring and diving as a seaside pelican
Above the waves at San Pedro harbor.
Chuckling to myself and wiggling my
Fingers, as they rest on the windowsill.

Light turns to green and we once more
Crawl forward, as once annoying cones
Transport to first grade soccer practice,
Dump trucks to hearty preschool play.

"Incarnated sol"

(A blank verse composition
Of mid-August 2010).

The blazing ball of fire now sets westward
A shade of orange as vivid as the
Kenyan plain in the noonday heat of June;
Of tribal dance and lively drum beats free
The movement of life, fierce, shockingly bright
Yellow of vibrant hue, as lioness
On the prowl; a striking beauty, filled and
Overflowing with hot embers, ready
To ignite with passions deep; piercing,
Captivatingly rich Indian spice.

In the east, sweet pastels of gentle pink,
As the fragrant lavender rolls over
The Provencal hills of a distant field.
Timid beauty, soft and shy the silk shades
That paint the far horizon of the land;
Tender blush at a passing stranger’s glance;
An English rose garden blooms in the sky,
Reserved elegance, glories in the past.
Singular source of light captured, expressed,
In unique displays, as the heat of day
Gives way to peaceful, cool nights of summer.

Full moon rises in the desert tonight;
Driving ‘cross highway, my sister beside,
Genuine and honest, she won’t back down,
Taking charge and fighting for the distressed,
Freely, boldly expressing her desires
Unlike the introvert behind the wheel:
Quiet of spirit, seeking to refresh,
And often few of words, yet heart devout.

Reflecting, embodying golden rays,
Sublime paradox, incarnated sol,
As we travel back to the smog city
Rays of light diffused and stars to be hid
The stormy shadows seek the light to fade.
Even still each day ends in dusk’s delight.
Banker and social worker recognize
As a most magnificent sight t’ behold.

Some drawn to the east, others toward the west,
Still none deny the brilliance of its source--
Beautiful transformation it affects,
Glorious illumination imparts,
Radiantly transfigured by the sun.

"Blazing beach bonfire"

(Composed on August 5, 2010
Scent of smoke still in my hair).

You know the smell
Just after the sunset
The raw and reassuring
The organic sweet scent
Of burning firewood
Mixed with fresh sea air
Speckled in gritty sand
Smoke quietly billows
Soaking into your skin
Saturating your sweater
Tenderly enveloping you
In its warm embrace
The fire laps at the logs
Hypnotizing waves of
Gold and scarlet flames
Glowing embers beneath
Blazing beach bonfire
Towels spread around
Cool, damp sand underfoot
Soft guitar strumming
Beat of the bongo
A floating melody
And the crackling of the
Marshmallow golden fire