1: Near Malibu
The red and yellow sun
sat upon a power pole.
Weakly, the naked hills
eroded onto the highway.
The bay, having gone flat,
left some sun-worn surfers
to loiter the sandy parking lot.
2: Down in Monterey
On rocky cliffs some young men had
removed their shirts to sun; joggers
shared the skinny bike path. Six
slim boats sat upon the bay;
yellow iceplant spread the bluffs
while kites climbed the pushy wind.
3: October
In the luminous evening light, little finches
found the tallest summer weeds and bent them
until their seeds spilt among the zinnias
whose blooms were now hampered by the night air,
having gone from bold brightness to cool pastel.
4: Marin
A camphor smell slips away
from the wistful eucalyptus.
Everywhere little houses cling
to the failing hillsides. Lanterns
sway upon the decks; bubbles.
Bubbles well up, and some
from the glass stem—how lovely
your wife is leaving our little tub.
5: Near Big Sur
Covered only with brush, the mountains
ran down to the water in steep gradients
and the sea bit back at the rock
and the yellow sandstone, thus keeping
its share of the earth flat and supplicant.
6: Mono
Big, rocky paws knelt before the water.
Birds stood in repose, the water lapping.
It was an old happiness, relentless awe,
standing in the presence of Mono Lake.
7: Highway 33
Light that fell through the nut orchard
was broken. It strobed across the road
and our car. It made utility pole shadows
long. The tilled fields would have been brilliant
if brown could be brilliant; in the low distance
nut orchards rose up in clusters of close fans.
8: Orr Creek
Is it just light that washes
across this morning landscape
and brightens my daughter's face:
I see the glass cowpond, the dead-brown
pastures, the very yellow trees.
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