Tonight I sat at the steep foot of a green mountain for hours,
just blocks from the California ocean,
eight waterfalls crashing and splashing to my left
with seventeen species of forgotten birds chittering and swooping
high above my open head, where once was bony skull now soft pink
membrane buzzing with nano-neurotransmitters, unknown as yet
to scientists or researchers.
This fleshy new mind feeling the cool whispers of pure night air, gathered the necessary reverent detail and wholebodied music of these ten to fifteen poets playing and plying their wheres and whyfors in this large room
here,
here in the high altitude evening of song with me!
Don’t ask me what was happening to my right, don’t do it---
there was nothing there in that direction for these three hours.
And, I was there. We were all present
for the green mountain,
wholeheartedly present, the circling birds,
the poets and their listeners, the fresh water falling
like ripe apples in an ancient
orchard of powerful purifying sound
and redolent smells,
sprouting nourishing
surprising meanings
in the damp sweet soil.
of sainted witchcraft and meandering wordplay felt
as light, its beam focused on life, truth and yes,
I’ll say it now, beauty,
it was a night in honor of beauty!
A night in honor of beauty.
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