Cal-i-fornia (verb) the state of being golden.
Can you see the way the sand sparkles on the shore?
Golden shards of glass, or broken dreams.
Who possesses the Midas touch now?
The crushed gates of Atlantis on our shores.
Aphroditic bronze goddess of the sea,
Hair blown by the breeze.
Sea air & salty &
more than anyone could need, or was used to.
Giant sequoias stand
As mighty and proud protectors
Behemoths of lifetimes past.
Explosion of seeds inside
Fireworks waiting to explode
Pinecones, little grenades of life.
Ghost towns reminiscent of the Wild West
Mining camps from the Gold rush days.
Tumbleweeds & reptiles & powder fine dust.
Some say the earth is red from the natives’ blood spilt, and sunk in,
Reality – Oxidation turns iron in the dirt to rust.
So that’s why Mars is red.
After a bad storm in San Diego
Dollars lie broken & shattered on the shore
A bankruptcy of marine proportions!
Just go see for yourself,
The sand dollar apocalypse.
We were echinoderms too.
Life gone dormant, and violent beginnings.
As if Calliope’s harp needed to be retuned,
Sun god, Apollo & Helios with his chariot in the sky
When did we become so heliocentric?
Solitary white cross on the hill.
Never did anything to harm anyone, yet they fear you so
Enough to try to remove you from our presence.
Mount Soledad, or their SOLEs-are-DeAD.
- You know San Onofre is a power plant right?
- Radiation, is that a problem?
- Only if you want to have kids or stay cancer free.
- 25 foot sea wall -- To keep the waves out, or the kraken in?
- 4,000 tons of nuclear waste, who’s gonna get rid of that?
Ghostly tendrils of death
Blown fifty miles down the coast.
They call it SONGS, how quaint.
A symphony of catastrophe.
The greatest arias of death and destruction.
