Ode to My Pump
Hello pump.
You are new on the block
And to the well.
I have just laid your grandfather to rest
After thirty years
Alone
In the dark
Humming, buzzing, pushing.
Quietly
As if to himself
Alone? Or to any other pump
within vibrational range.
Yet still alone.
In the dark.
Now I send you, my new servant
into that darkness too
Not of outer space
With room to move
But to inner space
300 feet under my grass
Where it is no longer sunny and hot
And streaming with gnats
With a hat on head.
It feels of such cruelty.
Solitary confinement
With a job.
Rather a slave occupying
A thankless sentence.
Could you possibly like it?
Prefer it to an above ground world?
I lower you 20 â 45 -78 â 300 feet
Through a rock hole
A cage
A trap
I cannot leave you
Without a sense of shame
Another cruelty
Like killing a fly
Or a caterpillar
Echoing murder
So easily forgotten
But you,
Your whizz is ceaseless
I know that you are still down there.
It is an inescapable haunting
Our life sentences.
_______ XXX _________
The Remainders
Night time in Oahu
There are souls about on post-harvest-moon nights. It is an atmosphere so still and dark that anonymous feet almost tripped over the human being sitting in the middle of the sidewalk with a black blanket draped over his head. He looked like a rock, just another lonely ghost that inhabits the streets. Seeking to disappear and yet breathing still. These are the fallouts â the remainders. The overlooked products of human love. It is hard to pick a specific mood when wandering at night. The soft wind anoints all exposed skins. It kisses the lucky and swaddles the wandering.
Magic of a sort.
_______ XXX _________
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