And I am sometimes proud and sometimes meek,
And sometimes I remember days of old
When fellowship seemed not so far to seek
And all the world and I seemed much less cold,
And at the rainbow’s foot lay surely gold,
And hope felt strong and life itself not weak.

The Thread of Life - Christina Rossetti

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair— 40
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare 45
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, 50
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

TS Eliot
The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock

This was written in 1993. I am re-dedicating it to all of those victimized by the lies of the Yes on Prop 8 campaign, fueled mostly by zealots and hypocrites, who I was thinking of when I wrote it.

In the Cathedral of
Saint Dollar the Divine
mi coffer es su coffer
(and vice versa).
Fruits of the spirit run
half-price.
There’s a special on
the bread of life.
(All sales final)
Your check is welcome here
(subject to Telecredit)
Cash is preferred.
Remember, precious lambs:
You always get
what you pay for.

The good part of the garage purge was finding the poetry I’d written back in ‘93-94. This one was published in a lit mag in 94. I’m publishing it here so I don’t lose it again…trusting Steve Gillmor when he says the cloud is the place to store your stuff.

there are ghosts on this street

great hulking trees

vague scent of eucalyptus on dying breeze

autumnal glow of leaves turning green red orange
summers’ fire caught in winters’ wet clammy grip
children’s laughter afloat across the bend
where the trees watched each other to see if they’d reach

crowded crazy street
engines race to capture their best time
Shelly gone in a flash once living now gone
no funeral for the young

empty schoolyard now
spectral shadows loom on terraces of the past
rings on the low one (for the little ones)
kickball fields on the middle one (for the adventuresome)
gilded asphalt on the upper tier (for the privileged)

Scary silhouettes dance across my heart
I was here but now departed
Prophets have no honor in their home town.
Socialites dance the cotillion of their youth
Someone’s gotta watch or what’s the point of dancing?

Now I stand watch over the new ones
I swear I left but still hear their voices whisper and scream
You’re back you never left and where are you going?

there are ghosts on this street

I’m one of them.