when stretchin out on Masonic,
tears extract the wind
circlin all the way up the Bay Bridge,
headin for a magic ride into Hill Town,
Collado Ensalada
another honkytonk SanFrisco morning of storms
blowin full across the call,
butterfull winged streams
gettin off coastin on sheer energy input,
hummm, ”where the hells the summer sun?”
“just pokin round”
corner of Shakedown St
then steppin up starboard tenements
downin grateful coffee cups
blueberry pie fills
for some psychosupernatural august warmth,
man, send them a message, Georgie Wallace:
free cups on the Haight for all street venders
and soapbox revolutionaries,
whove nodded away while pickin crumbs
off Monterey Jack sandwiches,
whove huffed and puffed this plastic Golden Age through,
whove done that fill then refilled,
whove leapt foresaken naked out into the streets
castigatin these high-rent elastic hills
where sidewalk puptents reside,
home to bearded wanderers
dressed in Goodwill velvet red gloves,
other dud eternity fixtures
up and down this rollerbop midnight,
when does rebirth begin?
where are the studded painted lightbulbs
runnin off people socketed hydro power?
can we pirate ocean radio stations
while broadcastin to non-directional audiences,
dismissin unrecorded hype
new world west leather black jackets?
can we sit out along chilly dizzy piers,
stalled in the rollin noddin blowalong river Alcatraz,
if only to hear the easy flow once again?
here, this pull of colored magnets
stretches into the wail of the City
upnorth all the way to Chinatown,
where stands broken tenorman
noddin in his wind,
just four bits to pass to Beach North,
where greasy plugmen call for openers,
whistlin after passersby into perverted barns,
undressed pronouns
O San Francisco Rundown,
O Glory Seekers and other Dreamers
do come by here,
meander down these corners
with Ferlinghetti’s dog
to sniff that decadent vibe of passivity,
or cheer on the launch of a better cycle,
reconstructin this magnificent transient change
into clear flower power hypnosis!
San Francisco
8/15/73