Oceanside
The
cement truck rocked up behind us
Like
a British Man-O-War
The
range torn up
Last
ditch of sage
A
two track for trucks
Struggling
water truck, heavy as a star,
Howling
as it sprayed.
Tying
rebar down in a hole
Everything
late
Two
cowgirls riding through
Watching
Eden disappear
Number
2 sandstone
California
framer
Cutting
torch
Heavy
track machines smoke
Complaining
as they work
The
sun locked on high
Time
on Earth runs out
As
the inspector rattles the rebar cage
Makes
a face, then nods
The
mixer backs, howls and sways in over the ruts To and fro scary slow
The
chute, the rolling drum
All
the precious
Time
rolling into the dark form space
Circe
The
hydraulics of Spring
The
mechanics of blossoms
Architecture
of fruit
Music
billowing sails
Kind
Centaur and
Sentimental
Cyclops
Olive
oil, wine and fish scales
Odysseus
in no hurry
What
were you saying, Circe?
Prow,
keel, rudder and stern
An
open fan of emerald gin sea
As
he leaves,
welcoming
aqua geometry
mocks
the diminishing Goddess
on
the beach, where she still grieves.
John Harold Olson - Is a retired Special Education teacher in Las Vegas. Transitioning to being a hospice volunteer.
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