Santa Cruz the Bubble

They say people here live in a bubble,

that Santa Cruz exists in its own dream world,

an illusory of a beautiful bubble dream world,

a seducing all over casualness of attitude

you find often makes for

this fog-brained, fuzzy of a kind’a whatever,

hangin’ loose-like way of perception—

A haven they say Santa Cruz is of the weird

& the wacky,

a never-wanna-grow-up land of Peter Pans

the rest of the adult country, the real world, they say,

loves to poke fun of—

Oh, Santa Cruz—weird is the word, certainly,

a notoriously laid-back, surfin’ dude town too,

lots of your squishy soft, do-gooder, progressive liberals

& time-warped of flower children long left over from the Sixties...

But there is so much more about The Cruz,

however its shimmering unreality of bubble

people here might give all the impression of living in.

There is more, there is something quite other,

something revelatory you had not expected,

happening here—

Enter the bubble

& you’ll find a swirl of a vortex

in the bubble,

a fitful creativity churning in the cauldron

of the bubble—

There’s new life astir

in the swirl of this vortex,

in the fitful creativity churning in the cauldron

of the bubble,

an emerging divine shining presence

out here on the continent’s edge,

where Goddess of this place, our Bay of Monterey,

is all so apparent in Her splendor,

where, within the bubble

—hidden to the pundits of everyday worldliness—,

our Goddess is giving birth to the Unheard-of,

to burst through from inside the bubble—

It is the coming-to-us from out of the Pacific

of the future’s Golden Child.

December 2004