For Maria (and Ethiopia)... Hearts That Bleed When Broken

I believed the last volunteer
Had been laid to rest
And that her tombstone read thusly:

Every ship needs its dinghy
And the cause was not celebre
But it was mine

But on a beach
Between Pacifica and San Francisco
I thought I glimpsed a mast
Above the breakers
Where a lonely fisherman was rowing
His dirigible toward the solidness
Of his boat

Reminding me of the day
You looked solidly up from your checkbook
And admitted to me:

I don't want to think about Ethiopia today
I've got my rent
And bills to pay

Before reaching for the calculator


Well, the yellowness of his rain coat
Worked in contrast with the gray sky
The moon was hung awkwardly from rebar
On a concrete wall

And I was remembering how
We had swore to each other
That things between us
Should never grow strange

Yet I couldn't help thinking
That Ethiopia
Wouldn't be far enough away

Blah Blah Big Blah Sur

Big Sur is floating
Above the lava
And on top of the sea

So that must be why
When I met you there
You behaved as if
You were above me

But you are not as hot as lava
Nor as deep as the sea
So it was I who truly felt relief
When you got up to pee

Superfund It!

Love Canal,
I know it sounds pervish

(Can't you see a teenager mouth it?)

But the reality of it
Is much, MUCH
Sicker

Haight-Ashbury Tree Clinic

Today the police merged with the taxi cabs

And tonight I’m riding home with the cops,

For a fee.

I told them how it is my policy

To match all of my moving violations

With charitable donations,

And they looked back at me so blankly

That I thought they might have been created

In some mysterious cavern

Beneath city hall,

With robotic arms attaching

Moustaches to the non-mustachioed

Before setting them free

To roam the streets.

And is it a coincidence that just two hours ago,

My friend was telling me about

This guy who rescues discarded Christmas trees,

Attaching new roots to their bases,

Nursing them back to health,

And then setting them free?

He calls it the Haight-Ashbury Tree Clinic,

And his organically modified creations

Are taking over this town!

Coastal Conifers, the Reagan Years

The trees on this coast
Lean with the wind
And bend with age

As if being bent
Will make it easier to stand
And doesn't just leave them
Crooked