The Revolution Continues

Remember, you can have what you ask for.  Ask for everything.

                                                            Diane DiPrima

I don’t want much, now.

When I was young, I wanted

that long dark hair, those tits, that ass

just so I could say I had them.

I don’t want that.  She’s gone,

and the planet she inhabited

is not doing that well.

I don’t ask for much.

I ask for everything.

I don’t want a green new deal.

I want a green-blue planet.

In my mind, I see the flat gray rivers

flowing through green fields and hills

in my mother’s homeland, near Chauvingy.

Through labyrinth canals, I hear the tourmaline water falls

tumbling over ochre sandstone cliffs

into the lush blue-green punch bowl

in the land of the Havasupai.

In my dreams, an icy Lake Michigan

covered with hoarfrost spread out

with fresh water beyond the horizon

resting comfortably under a warm blanket

of snow reassures me winter will end.

In my dreams, I see a rainbow bridge

connecting Santa Cruz island to the mainland

and the children of the Chumash

walking among us as our brothers and sisters

the dolphins, whales, and otters

cavort in the pure blue waters of the Santa Barbara channel.

I know a beach so pure and perfect

I see it every day like Yeats’ Innisfree.

Did DiPalma have a secret beach?

I don’t want flesh, or money,

I want it all:

this world I imagine,

this land where my ancestors rest,

this new-old world of tie-dyed dreams,

the infinite powers of a healthy planet,

a world stretching to the limits of imagination

then beyond.

It cannot be measured.

It cannot be separated.

It is all

I want.

What are you looking for?