My vision,
fifty years disturbed,
lines deep grooved,
do my eyes surround,
eye witnesses to all I've seen,
the limited I remember,
and the even lesser,
the clouded remaindered,
I've actually understood.*

By nature,
an accepter, not a skeptic, 
nonetheless,
a squinter extraordinaire,
looking out not in askance oblique,
but for focus, clarity,
unconscious of his
disheveled appearance,  
the crow lines and the forehead furrows
and the crazy hair flying everywhere

Need now two hands to
enumerate the decades of
failed recordings and
misfiled data collections

Stacks of scribble filled yellow legal pads,
black n' white photographs with serrated edges
testify to the existence of the 99% forever gone.

This day's dawn
I squint-eyed watch
as I write,
this day's recording
I squint-eyed tap,
into a tablet,
into a memory.
proof to all,
especially myself,
that my vision,
in both my
mind's eyes and impoverished words,
fail to satisfy history's needs yet again

So I lay awake,
looking south over calm waters,
sun's peekaboo just begun,
realizing that my tainted visions of distant pasts,
of little import,
more **** than treasure everlasting.

T'is the future visions of generations
on lawn playing,
little hands delight exclaiming,
star and bay gazing,
the only vision I e're wanted to deed,
this vision, internal, construct perfect,
resurrected dawn daily, forever

Even if I must squint to see it clear,
its loss an impossible intolerable cost,
an unacceptable fear, all for nought,
even blind in living color,
this vision
persists


Silver Beach

5:53 AM 9/2/12