Spanish war memorial

On sultry night,
Lovers climb iron fence
Seeking warm water.

Taking their clothes off,
They fling them over soldier’s gun
Then giggle,
Stepping into exotic pool
Dreaming of Cuba.

Rivalry

Out of place here at the capitol,
Cats scared and skinny stalk plump squirrels –
Apples of lunchtime eyes.

Playfulness

Security times sprinklers for evening
To keep riff raff and lovers off lawn.
About the time they come on,
Tourists straggle.
Their children
Full of glee
Step into line of fire
Laughing
Clothes clinging
Making lovers wild.

Between war monuments

Comfortable in this rose garden,
There is the nagging worry you will be mugged when the time of long shadows and deep scents arrive.
Remember the grunt who heard birds between battles,
Hoping the song would last,
Vowing to touch roses if he got home.

Parked taxi

Curled in back seat.
Cabby is no threat.
I smile toward palm trees,
Dreaming of turbaned strangers.

Over the edge

Sunburnt and stinking
Man walks perimeter of park
All day every day
Saying nothing
Walking with no one
Looking at nobody.

You know given a normal mind –
Walking alone
Talking with no one
Looking at nobody –
How you might lose yours.

Olive tree dying

With tortured bladders and tangled minds
We hurried past you to pee.
Then returned
Admiring your twisted peaceful beauty.

Inauguration speech

I want to bring everyone’s attention to what flies above our precious capitol: the American flag, our symbol that we believe in equal protection under law for everybody, despite an unequal distribution of talent and intelligence; and also the bear flag, a tribute to the recklessness and courage that have made California the beacon and envy of the world.

There is a third flag whipping in troubling contrast to this grand building. This third flag honors soldiers missing and imprisoned in Vietnam. What is troubling isn’t the inconvenience we feel being reminded of those who sacrificed so we can have an easy life.

It is terrifying the number of California’s young men in prison and jail and on probation or parole. The politicos who relentlessly pushed for the MIA/POW flag in all its’ blackness, selfishly and foolishly were determined to build more prisons and are still determined to build more prisons to incarcerate those not as lucky as them, to find a place to force young men to suffer now that there has been no draft for two generations. Our soldiers didn’t sacrifice their lives and their health so America could build a police state.

Our state, like the nation, is in a crisis. While I do not hold all the answers, I know the importance of symbols. I know the cynicism and eagerness for revenge that nightmarishly pounds in the blood of those whose lives are ruined or idled as a result of the hypocrisy of politicians.

The flag must come down.

In a moment I want us to watch in silence its’ lowering and removal. The curator of the Capitol Museum will keep it preserved under glass until most of our jails and prisons are closed; for no state, no matter how great, is not and cannot be perfect.

Then, and only then, should this flag be reflown.

Hotel across the street

This park needs crickets,
Thousands of them.
Pulsating.
Compelling poolside loungers to wander here.
Thirsting for darkness.
Starving for rhythm.

A place in the sun

When poets believe in beauty
They will sit on one of these benches looking at the capitol
Asking for forgiveness for having idolized absolute profanity and absolute perversion
For rejecting absolute truth and absolute justice

They will repent
Vowing to be absolutely good
As a poet and a person

Removing their sunglasses
They will cry over the glaring perfection of the capitol
Their maturity for now loving it
And the disgrace they once proudly made of poetry