Monday, October 22, 2007

San Francisco: The Cardboard Truck

It's part of the Geary Street drama, the cardboard recyclers.

Accordion on wheels
the cardboard truck
turns on Anza and moves up 21st

Flying fingers of cardboard man
and brittle brown wife weave dry stacks
in horizontal layers–their mesa
grows skyward as seamless day ascends

and light slants --

and soft fog bellows from Ocean Beach.
The load groans toward Geary,
hovers at the crosswalk,

bent woman, piercings, baby backpack
a short processional moves by

he watches, flint-faced, then leans,
strikes blindly toward the seat beside him
celebrates sunset
by lighting up.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

San Francisco: At Stern Grove

We made camp
among redwood trees
Puccini and pasta
on the slope

while below
golden hatless heads, quilts,
a hundred paper fans

like butterfly wings.

Saturday, October 20, 2007

San Francisco: How to Taste Edamame

How to Taste Edamame

Erase that Kentucky field
sunshot August morning
clay cracking, shaded by hearty green just

tackle the here and now

and holding by tail
pop salted pod into mouth
draw through teeth
as you would the artichoke then

close eyes and let the pearls delight you
breathe deeply hear first foghorns
held at Bay

then go back.

South Columbus
at margin of the long field
reaching toward September twist the stem
roll dirt-colored husk with thumb it

you taste the little pebbles. If they give way just
toss the pod--

not ready for harvest yet.

Friday, October 19, 2007

San Francisco: View from Cabrillo

ink and watercolor on silk