Not yet tired
of blogging while driving
when someone else
is driving

Writing
Squibs along the road

Sign:
State of the art Storage
What state?
What art?
What’s stored
and how?

are you the toast
for me to know
which side
you’re buttered on?

California’s great
they try to make
the landscaped freeways
like a drive
through the park

one value of a blog
is finding out
who thinks alike

C & H

still making sugar
ship parked waiting
to carry sweetness
to the world

Sweet James
billboard for a lawyer
for accident victims
looks competent enough
to defend
intellectuals
broadsided

rocks up there, Dad
yes.
rocks.

and writing
still writing
always writing
seen the views
before
but can’t do both
look and write
to see the changes
see what’s new

“If he’s found guilty
he must pay the price.”
the “if”
is out of touch
and out of date
people say
if and when
we’ve passed the if
we’re waiting for the when

Cordelia
tiny little town
used to be
nothing there
it’s now a major pumping station
bringing water through the state

Look
there’s a person
wearing a mask
in their own car
are they afraid
of themselves?

used to be a restaurant there
how can they
go out of business
when people still eat

Staples
the store
I know what staples are
those little wire barbs
to punch and hold
things together
or the basic foods
we need to stay alive
or this store
a chain
to offer
more than just one thing

sign says lagoon
in a state
known to need
equalizing water
California amazing
the northern Bay
and then the desert
driest deepest lowest
Death Valley
lowest of the low
which still supported life
what a state
to have it all!

and what a state!
the greatest University chain
a system
whose students
know how to read
and vote

I can’t sing
“California, here I come”
because
I’m already here
born here
proud of it

stacked boxes
beehives
reminds me
of my little jokey squib
Buzz off!
Beehive!

Isn’t it pretty, Dad,
all green?
Yes, I say,
what’s not to like?

house with
its own windmill
must be waiting for
the wind
the windmill’s
not turning

horses
fields
a muddy pond
a camper parked
sinking slant
apparently
people can live anywhere

orchards
bare branches
I don’t need
to take my little clippers
to prune off
the dead ends
they’ve got all that
worked out

house
cars parked
a truck
a flag
a little farther on
a barn
the whole world
made in little

another orchard
trees in rows
the bottom trunks
first two feet
painted white
looks like knee socks
to hold up and celebrate
the future harvest
only months away

you notice
if you look

every house I pass
even those isolated
by themselves
I wonder again
what it would be like
living there

and cattle
roaming free
dinner on the hoof
getting ready
for me

and exit roads
cars going off
in other directions

and the gravel pits again
and the machines
conveyor belts
and neat piles
off the end
I can’t tell
from here
in passing
whether
more or less

and the sky
looking at itself
clouds
waiting for the birds

farm house
another
and then later
another
a barn
some trees
that little world
a micro micro cosm
where they’ve found the way
to make little
just enough

and sheep on the hills
grazing looking happy
to have their own
before the cattle further on
I love Australian lamb
but look forward also
to eat local
and maybe wearing something
made
from local shearing wool
maybe to pull over
someone’s eyes

and a water tank
sign public auction
and rows of trucks
maybe waiting
for the world
to buy local

and
and
amazing
how can it be
a place
I’ve been
before

and next immediately
houses empty
derelict
run down
abandoned
as the highway
and the world
move past
leave them behind

and stacks of firewood
piled by the former orchards
of former trees
with nothing left to give
except one last burst of fire
from the heart

world’s smallest mountain range
it’s in the record book
where all the tiny horses live
and little people
with little feet
to climb the little heights

writing
always writing
still writing
maybe
probably
looking forward to when
I can take a break
put down the pen
and close the book

but not yet
there’s more
there’s always more
and I don’t want to miss
any of it

and the trucks
big trucks
moving trucks
freight trucks
moving freight
driving close
as we share the road

the rice plant, Dad
all those silos
rice
a lot of rice
don’t see where they grow it
probably somewhere
pretty close
close enough to compete
so we can buy
and taste
what we almost see

the one percent?
I’m looking at
the owners of the land
they live on
struggling to be rich
managing to survive

a row of tract built houses
solar panels on the roof
in case the flow of power
doesn’t reach breaks down
and builders try
to convince people
to move and live there
while the builders themselves
don’t care and move on

Broken Box Ranch
so much melancholy
in names
they announce to the world
to let us know
the way things are
and have become

there’s another barn
derelict
rotting
barely hangs together
my wife wanted
to take pictures
of barns along the way
to make a book
of memories

Look at the mountains, Dad
they’re gorgeous
Look there’s snow
of course there is
it’s January
winter
I see it
I see it

We’re going to show you
the town of Willows
before we change drivers
Chaz will show downtown
the theater
the beautiful old houses
all a place to see
and not just pass by

look at the crows
like a dark cloud
in the air
I grab for my glasses
too late

sharing lives
experiences
that’s what
it’s all about
not just
a fast food burger

and Willows
I only knew before
as a name on a sign
and now it says
1 ½ miles
California agri town
gravel factory
bunch of houses
prop airport
café
the heart of Willows
Taco Bell and Burger King
has everything
a church a school a jail
hospital appropriately
on Sycamore Street
and yes some houses nice
aren’t they sweet
a nice big park
a fancy courthouse
old city buildings
chamber of commerce
farm credit union
grand columned post office
thrift shop
main street church
real businesses
old barber shop and stop signs
old hardware
brick buildings stories high
the backyard gym
stop a cross street
turn left to see rows
oranges ripe on trees
in front of houses
old museum
appropriately labeled old museum
wrong way
yum yum ice cream shop
who knew all this was here
Chaz says the people who live here
more big old houses
amazingly nice
side streets
good over-hung
Civic Center Library
turn right then left
where they paused
and watched a baseball game
look at this little whimsy
football field on the left
Cultural Center of the town
The church sign says
God bless
Come again
as if they know
the Sacramento River close and dominant
sweet little town
went to a Peruvian restaurant
had videos played
indigenous children dancing
everyone short and friendly
we make a point
of trying to see
all the little towns
along the way
and they talk and almost gush
in reminiscence
Nancy’s Diner
and Airport Diner with pictures of planes
wrote a review
and the famous Tiki Restaurant
we never got to before it closed
shuttered like so many
off the main road
the Safeway market
unlike any I’ve ever seen
all local produce
butchered deli local

How many small towns
there are surviving
with good people still there
when so many others
have closed their hearts
made up their minds
and drawn the lines
for keeping out and in

and talking Chico further over inland
taking Highway 99
a sweet town with a college
my wife’s teacher at PCC
was Chico’s former mayor
I saw the last part of a video
want to see the whole thing
see the town itself
I think a nice place to live
every town should have a college

and the sign
Soft Shoulder
every time I see it
I miss
what it promises

and those strange flat pools
stretching along
by the road
can’t tell
if this is where
the rice comes from
but there are birds
they would know

changed drivers
we’re still going north
there’s water down there
then up to green fields
planted with something growing
and dead trees
still standing

and look there’s where Jerry Brown
bought land and lives
wave
I don’t see him but I miss him
he was a good governor
for the state and country
those Jesuit background folks
know what to do
the legendary Brown dynasty
so strong smart good
his father governor earlier
who gave the Pat Brown Institute
to Cal State LA
where I joined the inner circle
which I miss

and now a stop for gas
another Indian Casino
Rolling Hills Travel Center
the resort and restaurant
we think we’ll go to
after covid gives up its grip
I know so much of life
is missed because
of intervening circumstance
I put the gas charge
on my visa
doing my at least part
First Concession Petroleum
with an arrowhead painted on
I see the tanker parked
aside out of the way
waiting to replenish
and other driver
washing wiping windshields
because
and we may too
but already have
so often
so ahead
and back on the freeway highway
getting closer

feels like I’ve been here
so many times
no wonder
I have

and now
sheep grazing
looking like goats
after shearing

and Beacon Truck Wash
to remind me yet again
I’m on a much well traveled highway
part of the extended commerce
of the world

and my notebook’s almost full
but yet still yet
a few more pages left
to note another rival gas tanker truck
sustaining this busy hungry branch
of the petroleum driven world

and endless orchards
looking dead
but only waiting
to come back to life
I’m already tired
of looking at

another overpass
we drove under
taking off road drivers
to the other side

and now the radio
turned on
to fill the time
voices I may learn to recognize
talking about things
I may learn
To care about

and passing cars
available if I wanted to
to play the license plate game
where they’re from
and how many
and which the farthest
and the radio
now lapsing to Spanish
and then Donald Trump
as I look out the window

and passing trucks
with geographic license plates
that seem exotic
so far away
from here

and mountains gathering closer
to draw me in
to the forests lakes and rivers
embracing Dunsmuir
a town smaller
than Willows we drove through
and why I know better

there’s the river
it’s beautiful

and Red Bluff
we won’t stop now
but maybe
on the way back

and the river again
following us

and there’s that big house
on the right
like a castle on a hill
with a pointed roof

and the radio again
live
promising the news
and actually
this time
telling us
something

and the radio world
come inside the car
some things
you can’t escape

we see
off the road
a place
where trucks can rest

and I don’t even stop myself
to try to ask myself
why I write so episodically
it’s just the way things go
when you’re not driving waiting watching
and can notice things
and write them down
and whatever words I’ve jumbled
I can later straighten out
to type up

passing one more sign promising
“historic district”
History is everywhere
still within our reach

gas pumps ahead
and I wonder
what else can do the job

***

sign says:
“go the extra mile”
we all know
we already have
more than once

“She’s not my type.”
That “defense” we’ve heard before.
Oscar Wilde
accused of rubbing knees
beneath the table,
said, “He’s not my type,”
and that admission of having a type
locked him in prison
where in deep depression
he wrote De Profundis
and we wonder when
history will repeat itself again

I know or hear
so too many things
to make connections
to connections
to see the patterns
connect
to reveal the Big Picture
which seems so clearly there
we all should see

Rain now
driving through the rain
again
not yet storm
but maybe
most California drivers
careful know enough experience
but we on more alert
for those few others
who don’t know enough
and haven’t learned
that doesn’t just apply
to drivers
or rain

If there’s an accident
and I should die
before my time
I hope someone
saves this notebook
before the burning car
can burn it up
In my long life
of giving words
I’m not finished
giving them
there’s so much to say
and these few words
this little notebook
are a small part
of what I have to give
to the collection
So thank you
just in case
preemptively in advance
what I hope
I don’t need to really say for real
I’d rather
pass on
the words myself
so I can add on
even more

and now
the Great Lake Shasta
Northern California’s gift
we read about
when we finally stopped
last time
at the Visitors’ Center
at Pyramid Lake
that younger sister
where the State In-charge People
set up those remarkable displays
so we would know
almost everything
about the ways of water
and we know more
than we did
to slosh around
our no longer empty heads
it’s better to know more
when people just don’t know enough

a pile of granite rocks
heaped beside the road
ready for repairs
before they’re needed

clouds
clinging the hills
and mountains
below the top
as the air
kisses the earth below

and there are the Crags
again
as we expected and hoped
looming through the fog
which suddenly
swallows them up

and Shasta
that real mountain
for real
not this time
we know it’s there
but the fog’s so think
we can’t see it at all

getting close to Dunsmuir
closer
closer
be still my heart
we’re waiting for the sign
to tell us that we’re there

a quick stop
Manfredi’s
for a take away bite
and then to the house
the rain lessens
we run through
sporadic drops
and the house takes us in

and so at last
we’re home
another trip
successful
don’t know
how many
there might be
to follow
but now
we’re ready
to settle in
and order
local food
as you read this
you can almost
hear me sigh
in satisfaction
you can almost see
me smile