Steve

I continue my sequence of San Francisco poems by writing poems about the 4 older men who have adopted me into their poetic circle, each time I see them they ask me if I have written anything and have made me more comfortable reading my poetry aloud & in front of others.

Each of these poems is in honour of these very lovely, intelligent, warm, and amazing creative men. I am blessed to have them in my life!

STEVE

New York pasts form on your lips

footnotes to pages that will slice us up

in tiny meticulously written script,

histories cataloged in statements housed in a mind

serving up gentle calves to we your literary gods,

today a Muir Woods walk

tomorrow Gingsberg being an ass

short vivid prose polaroids of worlds

and peoples caught in an instant of living

Your little treasure notebooks

alive within your breast-pocket

connected to an observant heart, pumping life

from your spirit to each sentence written

of reality captured,

to you clouds are for rain, for looking up

‘write of what you know’ sound in my ears,

pen to life seen

a pretty gal, a wave, or a smile…