Candlestick (1990)

  

 the bars of the fire escape, the glo

of candlestick, other lights as well

mapping, if not betraying the isolation

felt by each who flip the switch

gathering masses and their clumps of autumnal

matter forming green parks

in between what's possibly bothered

now that earth's gone sour

a chest of drawers

thrown from a testament universe that was infantile

in perception and as redundant as what's

been done in

history''s familiar subject kneeling before kings

of money that common enemy

we'd sleep to love with

but perpetually tease with elongated morals

the vision of the plain people

a highway or plug

no fog in the abdomen of san francisco

tho slamming report of night sounds 

wrench on the possibility of

daylight's revolution going around the

fred douglas plaza block

to view the project windows we'd dream

the thiebaud perspective of what we all owe

never affording the metaphors of junebugs

fire-retardant in withdrawal

as the game in candlestick

melts our wax

back home in dripping exhaust station wagon Green

rolling down tree-lined eyes

wide as avenues strewn with stars,

their plastic cups of blood 

1990 san francisco 

FLB