Hara: The Fantasy as Reality
We laugh, in our smug self-assured certainty.
Truth in America plays the music of no-flute.
What of the ultimate reality? Perception?
Television cameras justify all ends. No Gods sit in judgment
so long as the cameras roll.
So long as one solitary soul is made aware
of an unfolding moment from a human experience.
So long as one other human spirit views sympathetically.
The ultimate fantasy is then indistinguishable
from the ultimate reality.
And ignorance may crow
until the voice grows horse thereafter.
But no matter, for the moment alone is truth.
Too far from land, a bird drops in death
to the sea and is consumed
without bias by the cosmos.
While the sea does not care,
neither does it blame.
(1983 after Barb H.'s BD at 'Juan's Place', Berkeley)