deep red bells

i miss you. your absolute underground wishwashes that swoosh up my bare legs under skirts onto shouldersneckcheeks even in darkest hours. even in darkest hours you kiss me and fling dancers and draggers and doers and don'ters towards doorways and yourways are all laid out raw jubilant terrible and rich. here it is mild, all the time. the subways are carpeted, seating padded. but i remember loneliness and wideeyes, your denizens willing to meet me upon the slightest hand extended. you, out of manholes and barstools and hundreds of miles of sidewalks, calling from around the next corner. i hear you, as summer begins her boil. i see your finger crooked: gold ring and dirt under the nail.

intoit

hello here. nice to meet you.

i left my fair city with a bang. or with a boom- in the park and on the hazy haz-mat beach. then a smack, in the hip-to-help-you-on-your way mission. and finally a thump, a bump, and a pow, as i exited my old home.

strangely, ominously, auspiciously (?), my entry into my new home began also with a pow, bump and thump. i would that being in the midst of this orchestral orgasmic palindrome, both bedrooms alike audience to a san francisco oakland sandwich of sensation during my move, has some cosmic tidings of good fortune.

this morning i woke early, walked to the smiling counter man bakery, fresh juice and cheese roll while waiting for the bus that carried me over the sunbathed bridge, coming up fast on the skyscrapers coming up fast. a day in the city with trains and buses and papel picada, a quick wineglass stop to a home that's no longer mine, dinner with a dearie. it's not hard to hop on bart afterward. and downtown oakland is so peaceful, and the lights around the lake twinkle as stars to lead me and my bike home at the end of the night.

loveletter

joy & pain - it's like sunshine & rain


tonight it's dedicated to skip. skip, whoever you are, thank you for founding your tavern. instead of one more night at a crowded, hip mission bar, i suggested to my two friends we meet in the neighborhood i've been living in for the past year. good old bernal heights. hello, bernal heights, thank you for housing me.

after a drink at a fine establishment, stray dog, which only today i peeked into for the first time while fetching moving boxes, we headed to skip's. i have some distant memory of a night a skip's, with some of my oldest san francisco friends, and feeling like i really found something that night. for 4, 5 years, i've held skip's in my mind: the search for that jazz club in the sky continues ever onward, but in skip's i believed i'd found the blues club of my dreams. tonight i confirmed that supposition.

tonight at skip's, the subsitute bartender, long ponytail down his back and shirt broadcasting "atencion, gringos" poured a drink with 4 bottles in his hands at once. this quadruple feat trumped by flaming shots and more importantly the geniality that one wishes of all bartenders. but really, let's get down to brass tacks. the band. electric guitar, drums and bass. easy does it. the set we walk in on features shuggie otis and jimi hendrix. (not necessarily blues, but) the second set blows in with a woman vocalist, just ruling the bar. all eyes on her. an impromptu dancefloor develops. her skinny friend, in subdued collar shirt and zipper jacket joins her on backups. let's get it on. she's the cause for hootin' and hollerin'.

guitarists switch in and out. two drinkers hop on a mike to accompany a blues number. a glass is broken near the stage; a broom is requested. drummers switch in and out. all around the 360 bar, heads are bobbbing. the backup man steps forward to sing sittin' on the dock of the bay. we all know this one. we all know this one.

loveletter

i've loved you for so long. even before we met, i knew. for years - times anear and times afar.





two fridays ago, you were celebrating - the aftermath of Your Holiday. on to dia de los muertos - somehow this one seems more yours than the one that is clearly passsing into shadow. castro streets gone quiet, from revelery to two-days-later death march. aww, i know, you are no morbid soul. i know you well enough to see it was a joyous observance. sitting on your concrete block, like so many time before, your willlingness to parade and get laid in full view. i watched the mixing of old and new, i witnessed the barefoot feathered ankle banded ancestors stomp and sway the pavement, with children green blue blackeyed looking on. i saw mourners and hopers of all stripes around the roots of your trees - we all know the end, don't we? it was a testament to your silent sensibility, the way all your lovers gathered that night, quiet and festive, somber and celebratory. thank you for counting me among them.



and three nights ago, how your sidewalks welcomed me and my dear companion, like you have, so graciously over and over and over and over again. when no interior would suffice, your balmy coat wrapped warmly around, encouraging us into your heart.

i'm leaving you for now. just a little ways away, i promise. for weeks i've cried to think of it, missing you already. everyone assures me we'll still be close, i'll visit you often. i know you'll have me time and time again. strung out on another one. you did it though - you really did, taught me how to love: the towering, the dirty, the unexpected snow patch, the streetcar, the crazy lady telling the truth,the sparkling, the stranger biting my back, the car crash, the lost in the park, the ocean lullaby, the whatever may come.

immaculata

:shiny: :white: :light: like riding an outline
a ghost and a cloud::an angel phantasma

the bike riding is my favorite. it is my new favorite. how my feet learnt to slip into toe cages without a glance. how i hear in surround sound. the do-si-do of my compatriots in the bike lanes - are you going faster, i pass you-okay, now you pass me, shall we wait at the stoplight 2 abreast? click click click my gears - me and bike and road, micro adjustments subtle swoop missing manhole

and the mind. the mind's favorite time, so happy to be with the body. moving.

today, mind and legs working easily, down empty street.
an unexpected friend calls out my name. well, hello, summernight surprise.
and later riding home, two lanes over, the guy and girl on motorcycle ask the taxi for directions to nearby restaurant. he doesn't know. but hey, hey i do, free air neighbor.
and continuing on, the last stretch, but my least liked (though somehow more favorable after nightfall), not too fast on the slight incline

whoa, wha, boom
i got doored
from the left
holy shit

a momentary jolt. but it's just my handlebar. i'm fine. really, i'm totally okay. the woman exiting passenger side was more traumatized than i. both she and the guy driving looked at me with horrified faces. "i'm okay - i'm okay" i pedaled forward a few feet. see?

i love it

hello operator, give me number bleen

8 minutes till the bus comes, so i head out the door, down the block, 'round the corner. hop on the sunday evening, uncrowded 24. up front is a shaggy slightly dishevled corduroyed guy. asking for reassurance from the operator when the bus stops at diamond. celltalking. i'm listening to music - the 24 line makes me a particularly evil readingsick. we got on at the same stop. his question makes me think he's not from around here.
then i go to the movies with the guy who sold me my bike a few weeks ago.
standing in the mezzanine, fishfry calls up to me from the lobby. earlier in the day i thought about inviting her to see the film with us - she would like it, anime about dreams. but she's here to see something else.
afterwards we walk back to the busstop, only a 2 minute wait.
music back on. a friendly operator who waves me past when i'm fishing for my transfer. one guy greets him knowingly after hopping on; they chat it up. down in the castro, shaggy cords gets on again. oh - smiles. sits crosslegged near me. he's got a worn greyhound luggage tag on his backpack (a-ha). after a bit, he moves up to the front and begins talking with the operator. i exit at the front of the bus, and i am wished a good night.

between 22nd & 23rd

on bartlett

there is a bird, who will riff incessantly in the midnight hour