The Market

Dec 10, 2006

The market

Going for the peppers and the corn,
You don't mind that Pinochet is dead.
It's all too clear the tomatoes are out of season
But they keep appearing, believing
Hothouse, green house, Eurospray we eat them whole and ripe
Like we swallow so many lies of our government.
It's genetically modified, perfectly not organic you say? 
Your soul feels half that wholeness,
All the goodness cooked good and through.
It's winter and all the vegetables are a perfect red and green,
A miracle to our civilization, a hubris to our fading time.
The roots and cavasas are waiting to be rescued from the bins,
And you oblige because you can't stand their screams.
You show mercy and take them to a quiet place.
The leafy greens are shimmering with molecules of water,
Each surface a kaleidoscope of nature's pride. We take it all in,
We give no thanks, we make no blessing, we are consumers, 
Fine and smooth inside, ready to bleed on the outside.
They say we are evolving like the pears and the peaches,
Digesting lactose we still need a holiday from ourselves.
We are too far mesmerized by the hype, the media making us dull.
Such abundance saved from the heat of the seasons, and
Nature now our bride through the market.
She is singing at our glimmer of awakening, through the lost garden,
Patient, generous, and forgiving.

Tribute To A Farmer

Laura Trent's veggies

Since Winter of 2002 I have been walking down, pretty religiously, Saturday morning to the Farmers Market, except on days when it's pouring rain; Always getting wonderful, beaming with joy and life produce. I went first to my very favorite organic vendor stand, and found a tribute table with Laura Trent's picture on it - candles and flowers. The produce right behind it beaming with color and freshness. At first, I didn't understand ignoring the sign with words, eyeing the early girl tomatoes, and purple and green okra. Then I went back to the table and realized Laura Trent was gone from this Earth. She took her life on Wednesday of last week, and the tears began like a facet. My thoughts were: Why? How alone she must have felt on Earth to do this. How I would miss the smiling, but shy, determined woman of so much talent and blessing she gave to the Earth. I didn't even know this woman! She meant something to me, I had many interactions with her over the years, and she would even give me tips on how to cook the vegetables she sold. Then, the sudden panic of our impermanence hit me. How we would all be gone... passed on into recycled molecules, and more tears and fears arose. Each of us so precious, so miraculous, so important to even strangers. Then all I could do was pick out the last of Laura Trent's harvest, because her farm would be sold, no one left to manage it. There I stood in the middle of Splash Pad Park, hordes of people around me, all alone with this woman's delicious harvest in my satchel. Then, I told myself - get it together! No wait, I really need to feel this, so I attempted to follow my routine going to my local Himalayan vendor (always with a smile of a Buddha on his face) purchasing my hot cup of Cha tea with milk. Then I went to the tamale vendor, and purchased the most simple tamale and ate quietly on the ledge watching people, feeling a lot and not saying a word. This was all I could do, living my simple life with Laura Trent forever in my consciousness. May she finally rest in peace.