The Future

We need more people in Midtown.
So many we love to make eye contact.
Lost in the rush,
Not afraid to trust.

Not so great

How many people walking slowly in the dark,
Loving our trees, our magic,
Have been attacked, their faith shattered?

Trees no longer sacred but hiding places,
Midtown no longer magical but scary?

City-Sponsored

Parking lots under freeway great places for boxing match,
Tapping the violence waiting to erupt,
Bringing it into the open –
The homeless seeing fighters do to each other
what they would love to do to an ex-boss,
ex-wife, the cops,
Shouting, drinking, smoking, having somewhere to pee.
Finally feeling freed.

The Connection

Somewhere in Midtown
Tobacco loving sinner
Smokes in the dark.
A zen moment.
Inhaling.
Exhaling.
Like the breaking and retreating of a wave,
The rise and fall of the tide.
Smoke rising like incense.
Cigarette glowing like a beacon.

Before the Fall

Boomers remember sleeping in the yard,
on the porch,
Before midtown became infested with their
drugs,
their cheap thrills,
the creeps that go with them,
the fear that haunts us today.

Exiled

Imagine somebody from a country where God is taken seriously,
Coming here.
Carrying trust in his heart in God’s infinite mercy.
Trying to hang on in America, in Sacto, in Midtown.
Terrified of our infinite nothingness, our pseudo spirituality,
Our hatred of Christianity, our founders, our government, each other,
of everything Western.
For the first time in his life,
He needs God’s infinite mercy for himself.

Silence

It’d be nice to pass St. Francis,
the neat old church,
hear chanting,
on and on,
forever and ever,
like God’s infinite mercy.

Getting in Shape

Saturday morning
Women training in park
Making it hurt
Feeling the pain
Reminds me of Lombardi
The sweat. The toughness. The ritual. The mission. The drive.
The drive.
Drive Susie! Drive!!

Inspiration

Used to be a bench on the southeast corner of
Sutter’s Fort, where you could sit in the dark,
pretend the freeway was the ocean, dream
Sutter-like dreams.

Dog Park 19th Street

More smiles and laughter in one hour of one
day at this little prison-like dog park, than in
a City of Trees whose beauty we fear to reflect.