San Francisco when it lifts
To a higher dimension
Accepts the sun to its canvas.
We walk sideways from the cafe,
Safely above the ocean, on a curve
Merged with the city's consciousness,
Which remembers the knowledge
Ensconced in the wind,
The pulsating codes on the bay.
Under the shroud of the cathedral
There are a few who move freely,
Trying to light the void with their eyes.
Row houses in crystal wait
For a new earth, or a sunny day,
Whichever comes first.
Empires have fallen off this table,
Cleared their plates so many times,
But still the city rises in a million points of light
On a see-saw, balancing the fish scales
Where there is no center,
No there there, either,
Except as the individuals
Whose faces you know
Peel away from the collective spell,
Harmonizing as weather vanes,
Standing in a permanent rain
And ever-present, intermittent heaven.
The fishing nets rise to the sky.
This was before they locked their cages,
Some gale-force gray golden age
When the bay windows gaped at the suffering
In this port of excess, nexus of pain
Like anyplace whales might visit,
Too far away, those who walk by,
Too far away not to heal,
Heal like the rain.
