You Say I’m Your favorite drug?

You say I’m your favorite drug?

Then I will die with every dose,

So rush baby rush!

My illusions will never be more beautiful!

(c) Rob Goldstein, 1986

 

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Sunday in the Park

I went for a walk on Sunday through San Francisco’s Alamo Square Park.

It’s so refreshing to see people out and enjoying each other without the
rancor and ugliness of armed racists bearing Confederate Flags and
swastika’s.

I reflected on the beauty of the people and the day and realized how good life is when people simply agree to abide by civilized norms of behavior.

Please, enjoy this moment in the park.

Photograph of people enjoying a Summers Day
Sunday, August 20, 2017 at Alamo Square Park in San Francisco

 

Photograph of people enjoying a Summers Day
Sunday, August 20, 2017 at Alamo Square Park in San Francisco
Photograph of people enjoying a Summers Day
Sunday, August 20, 2017 at Alamo Square Park in San Francisco
Photograph of people enjoying a Summers Day
Sunday, August 20, 2017 at Alamo Square Park in San Francisco
Photograph of people enjoying a Summers Day
Sunday, August 20, 2017 at Alamo Square Park in San Francisco

 

Photograph of people enjoying a Summers Day
Sunday, August 20, 2017 at Alamo Square Park in San Francisco
Photograph of people enjoying a Summers Day
Sunday, August 20, 2017 at Alamo Square Park in San Francisco

 

Photograph of people enjoying a Summers Day
Sunday, August 20, 2017 at Alamo Square Park in San Francisco
Photograph of people enjoying a Summers Day
Sunday, August 20, 2017 at Alamo Square Park in San Francisco

(c) Rob Goldstein 2017 All Rights Reserved

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Venice Beach, April 26, 1990

1,

He throws his
muscle onto
the beach
each swaggering
step a flex in

time.

As the
bodybuilder
struts to
shore
a seagull

crosses

the sky

she must

fly–

2.

His abs and thighs
memories of flesh
from no specific
man from bodies
that no longer
exist–

now he stretches.

(c) Rob Goldstein 2017 All Rights Reserved

Felique Dupré in the Haunted World: Whose Hell is This?

Persephone plods relentlessly towards Hell.

Great drifts of snow form a tunnel along Union Turnpike.

Everything is grey: grey snow from a grey sky on grey
buildings.

Persephone rolls her eyes at the writer; perseveration of
thought is the sign of an overwrought mind.

Yet, she does consider the landscape grey

Illustration of Persephone made from a photograph of an avatar
Union Turnpike

Alla Saints an’ Mother Theresa coul’na saved me!” laughs Hades
with a puff on his cigar.

He’s just told the story of how, as a young Catholic converting a Jew in Switzerland, he was chased by a pack of Protestant dogs.

“My twisted sister!” Persephone hikes her skirt; that story never fails to impress.

Hades,” she says, “about Felique…”

“I don’t have your precious Felique!”

Nevertheless, she persisted: “But you must!”

Hades relaxes and chuckles affectionately: “Of course I must. She’s in the Garden playing with dolls. She’d love to see you.”

Persephone is confused: “What was that business with the hag in the mirror?”

“You know how the writer likes special effects.”

“And Felique…?”

“She’s a little girl named Trina.”

“I see…and, whose Hell is this?

“Cocteau’s, do you like it?”

Surrealist photograph of virtual reality avatars to represent Persephone and Lucifer entering the Garden
Persephone and Lucifer enter the Garden

Persephone examines one of Lucifer’s paintings and smiles: “Life is like a skyscraper on quicksand.”

(c) Rob Goldstein 2017 All Rights Reserved