The Questing Beast

He followed in fleeting circuits
the elusive glatisant girl.
He measured in meandering mobius strips
every cascading waterfall curl.

She fled his familiar gaze
as if his eyes could cast deadly rays.
She wore hats to hide her brunette curls
and the bridalveil stopped. Silent and still.

How can such beauty - stop?
How can such love be lost?

Like a waterfall hunter in Yellowstone,
finding the secret that seizes his eye
To discover in mere moments
that the cascade runs dry.

Then the search becomes the thing;
Pellinore, ancient and wandering king.
To find another glatisant girl
who will willingly counter my gaze.

These eyes bring hope and new life.
Not the death so long retold.
His strength she will gladly embrace,
Her tresses he will lovingly hold.

Cannery Row

I think I shall go
to Cannery Row
there by the bay
in Monterey
there to kneel
before California seals
dropping my words of wisdom.

But these words of wisdom limp and fail
like a garden hose in an empty pail
But I learn from them a Nietzschean truth:

"One who cannot be smitten by nature
Should be smitten by men,
For such things are not human
But devils in masquerade."

The seals went erect and howled their glee
As hail cascaded from clouds born of Sea.

The sand turned to snow
on Cannery Row
I ran to my car
on the asphalt tar
to watch the seals disappear
into the surf, white and near.

"These are strange days!"
I screamed to myself
to drown out the hail
rebounding off my car.

I came to teach
Instead to learn
In the raucous cacophony of cascading ice
I am made silent.