I woke up and looked around—
same old curtainless windows
torn shades thru which the sun
easily broke mornings. roaches romped
in brown paper sacks of garbage
and the pink fridge held
its hopeful vitamins
that would save me
from the smog and Food Conspiracy
and the dawn crept
across the windowsill
like a sick bum
and I thought: all this will change
and dressed and shaved and went down to the beach
and ran along the shore
nodding to the yogis in the lotus position
contemplating their acid navels
—the sun could not rise without their help—
and returned for lunch
and napped in the afternoon…
when I awoke it was evening.
I went down to the beach
and the whales were dying on the shore
and the sea lions perishing
and the fish uneatable
and the gulls choked with oil
and the plants withered
and the air brown
and the people irrelevant
victims of enterprise
denied, denied, denied
by the politician, the industrialist
and there was nothing I could do
but wait for the prophecy to be fulfilled:
California will sink overloaded with deathliness
into the Pacific
and what is the coast line now of many a land
will be the bed of the ocean…
the oceans are dying
all pollution goes to the sea
they are not dying of long hair and nudity
but the people cannot understand
they cannot draw sane conclusions
the people are sick
they have been too long poisoned
by lies, by flags, by slogans,
by counterfeit nourishment,
they do not know
they do not see
they are with the gull and the sagebrush,
the ocean and the spider,
the sky and the dove.