Pastoral

“Arrange whatever pieces come your way.” – Virginia Woolf

Day
The smell of smoke, a Plymouth, wet and hooded,
A moat around the Taco Bell, a pledge
In pink scrawled on a cardboard box: garage sale.
The electric scroll near Gold Dust proclaims:
Congratulations – Graduates – flash - Grand Opening.

The washboard, snow-capped clouds frame the rangy palms 
In pearly shadow. A cool, fresh-mown breeze
Across the greenway, as bicycles peel 
Under the bridge, a swarm of hats, a walkway
Of rococo brown, like a 70’s film,
Over Union Hills, with frills of skyline lace.

The swan-like plumes of a century plant 
Hover high, in thin sky, alone. Underneath,
The face of the sun, cross-eyed and staring,
Painted moon-white, an ungenerous smile.

The shadow of the satellite through porch slats
Blocks some light on the quivering green bean leaves. 
Like a buoy, or a bobbin, the green hummingbird 
Feeds at the tray. Pink hibiscus paper is crisped
By feet or moves like bloomers on still water.

The clippers have sat in the kitchen for days
Awaiting our hearts to take their handles
To the shaggy rebel bush but, alas,
The sun has kept it alive, a stinking
Unguency, a launching post for moths and bees.

These ocotillo days, where trees hang empty 
In their being, and blooms emerge from every bush, 
With rich aromas that skewer the air.
The breeze is as slow as the trickles over 
Stones on their way to the palos verde.
All we need of heaven is the waiting
For the red about to open on the bird
Of paradise bulb.

There are pink bells,
Their ends explosions of patterned purples,
Clasped by an off-white pod with open mouth
And slender tongue, fed through a drooping stalk
Wound round stiff leaves like flames holding down long
Brown dried husks full once of seed, and connected
To a smooth, grey meandering trunk, criss-
Crossed by ants in crazy motions as if drunk.

Another tree, a few footsteps away, 
Exactly the same, save the bells are red.

Within the trees, the creak and squeal of crows
And doves and wrens and constant finches’ questions,
And occasional replies, the aha’s, 
I told you so’s and booming I am God’s.

The “Dead End” sign is just an end for one 
Particular kind of vehicle, 
The trail begins for others, away from
The cubes and edges of human structures.
Tow-headed weeds in the concrete roadside
Seem like royalty before the fallow field.

The hills are blue, grey, red, brown, green and mustard, 
Depending on the distance, like I am 
An interval in a larger music sheet.

Night
In downtown Glendale it's deserted now
Except for those on the bricks in the road
Always in pairs, who stare at the face of God.

Down Gardenia Avenue, green cottages,
Palm tree and ivy, moonlight on the stones,
Red and yellow craftsman homes, cinder-block
Bungalows, brick and iron ranchers, wood
Shacks with tiny windows lovingly dressed.
A white picket fence, overhung trellis,
Shutters, the backyard full of Rottweilers.
Wagon wheels and St. Francis of Assisi
Inside the gardens as the train moans by.
One blackbrush acacia controls the whole sky.

Flowers and flags, fountains, gazebos,
Cee Cee’s on the Corner: vintage retail,
Is closed, carved crows on poles, beaks open.
Two statues of girls with their fingers to
Their mouths; the Manor at Catlin Court: stores:
Doll Hospital, Bears and More, Juniper House,
Glendale Flowers, Country Maiden, Heart Strings...

Further along, by The Bead Museum
And the 1890's Street Clock, there's more:
Cameo Candles; Zingaro; Bitzee Mama's
Mexican Specials Mix and Match;
Matilda’s Closet; Zola Bell’s—Manis,
Pedis, Waxing, Perms—the Sand Dollar Thrift Store,
Its glass shelves full of sandals and golden shoes;
And Blooming Bouquets: Bridal Specialists
Next to Lerner and Rowe, “The Heavy Hitters,”
And Tattoos and Piercings Gone Wild, all closed,
As empty as Lenny's Malts; Empire French
Imports Antiques; next door, Appraisals,
Early Hollywood, Neon; The Apple Tree;
Repairs for Vacuum and Sewing Machines;
Greek statues in The Astrology Store.

Kids from AA smoke in front of an old church,
The pastor carries a knick-knack basket
And a cell phone, unlatches the door at the back.