Born Into a Carnival of Souls

Here are a few words I’ve seen scrawled in the alleys of San Francisco’s
Mission District:

We can’t know what we won’t comprehend.

We can’t stop the damage we won’t believe we cause.

These are the crazies, the dregs of the earth, the losers, and every other demeaning and dismissive word used to dismiss the powerless who suffer
the worst of the GOP’s abuses of power.

These people can’t afford to vote their conscience because they’re dying from the lousy choices of people who can.

I saw this scrawled on a wall in late 2016: Why do u want 2 Kill me?

That’s a damned good question.

A mind that ain’t inquisitive really doesn’t got
shit to live for if you can’t explore the
realms of thought you ought not test lest
you be chomped up, like a pop rock, stopped for a
bead from the weed lady, thought it was the bomb
Really wasn’t nuttin but a bag of strong palms

A human ain’t a human if he doesn’t make mistakes
And the name of this song is Swan Lake

Save

Save

Until the End of the World

Until the End of the World
            Until the End of the World
In my dream I was drowning in Sorrows
But my sorrows they learned to swim
Surrounding me, going down on me
Spilling over the brim

 

 

 

Save

Signs

Signs

Five AM and the exit sign

carries the name of an
expedient God

I wade cross a swift river
of imagination

rushing, rushing

over thoughts

  worn smooth as

stone.

My soul

is fearful and distracted by

Exits

and their promise

of

empty entry.

RG 2015