4/14
Berkeley, Telegraph Ave.
Same spit, different day
Caffé Strada, 6 pm
“do you think God is worried about spring cleaning?!”
over bells at half seven the hophead Asian trash student
on endless cellphone conversation.
“this doesn’t finish — never!”
“did you think it would? that’s disgusting!”
he wanders back and forth, to the sidewalk, then into the street.
“you know she was telling me. you know? you know.
and then somebody says . . .”
Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring
finishes on the carillon.
.
4/15
“don’t annoy me ‘cause I’m beautiful.” —SRL
“I am the fucking Angel of God
come to rain fire on all
you troglodytes!”
(written day before VA Tech Massacre)
4/16
that’s God
smiling from
the severed head
that’s art shaking
its finger in praise
that’s nature
upending the telescope
and laughing
that’s reason
overtaking the rumors
at the marathon
that’s art, that’s
God, shattering the
modern-day pillars
of an ancient pagan
sanctuary, that’s
screaming you hear
over the loudspeakers
of Vatican City
that’s a strong cup
of coffee, that’s
moonbeams and crysalis
husks floating down
from the sky and
praising the one
whose head is a sheep’s
that’s Bingo pointing
his skinny claw
and flicking forked tongue
that’s a mean pack of signs
breakwater makes art
from waking from
draining from the hand’s
turn from the waiting eye.
