San Francisco’s radiance

This city’s killer light
Reminds us of divine sparks and beauty in us
Smothered by fog
Tortured by wind
Again and again.

Lone mountain college

The poor can’t afford to study in you,

But we ponder your beauty,

Vowing to endure dark days,

Until fog lifts, and we stand, gloriously in the sun.

Glaring

This dazzling light overwhelms us.
Having come here to be somebody,
We realize we’re nobody.

We drink to feel right,
To feel godliness we fail to realize,
In this city where God is always right before our eyes.

Half full

Seagulls don’t complain about the wind,
They let it take them higher.
We use wind to inspire
When we dress for it,
Marvelling how gulls drift.

Stowe lake

Gray streetcar slinks through fog.
Faces bleak as the day.
Reminding me we aren’t free.
Making me want to seek Russians,
Ask at Stowe Lake if they think we are free, if we still have a great nation.

Continue reading →

Spreckels lake

Sutro Tower looms in background, receiving signals from the gods.

When radio-controlled boats rock the water,

I yawn, drift, nod.

Sunbathing

Woman on Potrero Hill
Gazing at Twin Peaks
Would love to take her bra off
Soak up that Mission sun
Lie on her back
Free from attack.

My generation!!

Rejecting the courage and imagination of Jesus as Western horseshit,
We latched onto Eastern sensations, willing to corrupt a nation,
All of us proud of it.

On the waterfront

Watching light shine off buildings on Treasure Island,
You know you missed a moment in the sun,
How you coulduh been somebody.

Backing from the rail, you sit to feel your pain,
Then notice the light’s stillness, how peaceful you feel,
How you’ve forgotten the wind.

You know the sun usually comes out,
That if you come all the time you will face your glaring pain until it weakens,
That your peace will become greater than your failure.

Standing, you feel the wind assault you.
You walk back, seeking light in everyone’s face,
All of you shivering.

Fell street exit

Returning from a cross country trip in 1975,
I whooped in astonishment as I drove up the
Fell Street hill after 2000 miles of flat.

Revving up from the bowels of the city
Leery and exhilirated
You see fog attack the sun
Block after block
Until fog wins
And you feel creepy
Running on empty
Wind out of your sails
It never fails.
Rather than sunshine at the end of a fabled nation
There’s cold wind and trees
Dripping all this condensation.