Mariposa street

Painting everywhere.
Taggers overflow.
With butterflys’ brillance.

The con men

When poets proudly said fuck you in this city, they betrayed its’ sacredness
and beauty as a place of hope, as the place to come to purify yourself,
scale the heights, face your darkness in this divine and intense light.

Against the elders’ claim any fool can be a drunk, a sex hound, poets
screeched drunks and sex hounds have a right and duty to be profane, to
lead San Francisco’s youth away from demanding vision, to create heights
as selfish and false as skyscrapers to come.

Grace

Swaggering against the wind
You vow to live this city’s beauty.
When you feel ugly
You step into these wonderful churches,
Out of the gales,
Marvelling at peaceful light,
Your promise still in sight
Only much more humbly.

San Francisco: the sixties

Not wise enough to sense you shouldn’t need drugs here,
Hippies shot their wads at false gods.

Old time boozers knelt, prayed.
Jesus. Make me less afraid.

Sausalito

Jesus and the boys ventured to Sausalito.
Bundled in the cold,
Jesus surveyed hills around the bay,
Wind in his face.

Anchoring in Richardson’s water, https://historicalmarkerproject.com/markers/HM1XM0_william-richardson-historical_Sausalito-CA.html
He walked on shore observing a lunatic.
Jesus said “I can handle this.”
Having met his match,
Jesus tried again:
Hocus pocus help me focus
Remove his demons so he stops screamin.
Reaching from the bottom of his being,
Jesus channeled the lunatics depths,
Holding his breathe,
Gasping ”Come out you things!”
Teetering, Jesus couldn’t contain them all.
Not wanting to fall,
He thought of hogs he saw grazin,
Then spun, casting them the lunatic’s devils.
Now they’re crazin
Running to the water to drown,
As everyone in town wailed
“Who is this clown?”

Going back to the boat,
The guys headed into Richardson’s Bay,
Another gray day. Another person saved.
Townspeople felt like Captain Richardson,
Animals slaughtered,
Watching idiots sail away.