From Grandview Park

George Washington High School glows at dusk,

A monument to the man: noble, restrained, solid;

The place to turn when aspiring buildings pull you no higher,

And you’re afraid to come down to earth.

J P Murphy Park San Francisco

Too raw to be sexual,

Twin Peaks loom like bloated breasts.

Hardly any lawn. No benches with backs.

We perch on this cold war plaza.

Cursing the riff raff.

In a row on a log

Basking in the sun

Turtles show their shell to the world.

Trilling birds penetrate fading sleepiness

Waking residents to a new dawn

Daring them to go out on a limb

Purse their lips

Make love sounds to the world.

They complained about the wind.
Willie said it isn’t hot.
They pissed and moaned and griped.
Willie told ’em: Learn to win with what you got.

Not accessible to our heart,

We ooo! and aah! over your ostentatiousness,

Wishing you were ours,

So we could entertain 35 year old cuties,

Who appreciate us for our beauty.

More like the Avenues

Than the Mission,

We think of what might have been,

Had they camped on York Street,

Half a mile further from the wind.

Nixon’s Dad Should Have Pulled Out Early

Tai Chi artists

Go with the flow in the fog,

As I shiver and quiver

Looking for Marin Hills and God.