2021-02-15 08:31

San Francisco Note 2

(August 2002)

The ambiguity of this climate,
this plotless city, this finger
in the air. One of the last places
in the world where today is
not yet tomorrow. New York
can have tomorrow, Sydney can
have tomorrow. We will crouch
on the sand dunes and watch yesterday
invent itself. And in this
silent hallway, every lived moment,
remembered and forgotten, rises
toward the ceiling, and spreads out over
the city. I can see it everywhere
I have gone. I am cold
even in this persistent sun.


poem


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