Rooftop Reverie

I'd like to say I rise early because of the light. Truth be told it's more feline related. Machinations of two cats in tandem. But after they've been fed, water poured, coffee made, I head to the roof. I'd like to say I do tai chi, some days I do. I'd like to say nothing else is on my mind, some days that's true. I'd like to say, with decency in sharp descent among some in this world, that light, qualia of color, gulls, geese, and herons at work in life buoy me. Some days they do.



Gears Turning


Went to the Gears Turning Poetry Reading at Adobe Books on 24th last night. Three excellent features - Josiah, Tony, and DL, wonderfully hosted by poet laureate Kim, and a houseful of amazing open mic-ers. Lifted my spirits, blew me away. Bay Area open mic circuit is a real deal groove.  Afterwards, connected with Tony for his b-day beer & dinner at Picaro on 16th - 30 years ago it was a bohemian cafe - when I was cruising the Mission selling ads for the Bay Guardian - their slogan, 'you can wear a beret but you gotta pay for your refill. ' Now it's a packed Spanish restaurant with roving mariachis. Definite upgrade. Had a blast. Found parking on 14th St., in front of this joint, icing on the cake.

At Axolotl


This Too A Poem


   Speaking truth at the mic with notebook, with guitar, with typed page, 

   with iPhone, with hands shoved in pockets, with 2am approaching

     with knowing anything  done after midnight is art.

                     The madness in the moment,

                                             the self haircut, the can of beer, the fighter,

                                            the math teacher, the queer poet whose voice

is pure song . . .                  the geometric performance of truth and what      

                                                                                     we say is the truth.


               Rocking in your back row chair you go to the front to 

              lend your voice, sing your song, speak your life, join

             the fiber of this night, this midnight mic, this pure grain

            flow you come to know when you look this close & listen,  

           the lives you see, the colors you feel, rhythms alive in the air,


people like you

people not like you,

poets off the street,

                                                          army of letters, word delivery,   

                                                          bringing it, winging it, singing it

                                                            behind the mic tonight at midnight.


Or, How we know we're alive.