City Lights Bookstore, a stack of trees made into schemes, arguments, dreams to  balance shelves that might fall  back on a mocking bird.


all ye who enter here

this is pure nonsense

essence of a summer afternoon

slight breeze

scents ill defined


any wish for aught else may find

a banishment

puzzled, beyond recognition



why go

where everyone has gone before

where hindsight is blindness

and foresight cannot be fathomed








golden sunset of dawning realization

beginning my years

end with no beginning

as the bird by the compost stares




there cannot be any better place

than no place


down to the roots

a madness that supersedes

the usual thing





cherished petunia, purple beyond recognition

remember the time

when snail glisten was your skin?

your time beyond beginning?



Big Al's Record Barn in Santa Clara, repository of dreams, history of El Camino Real rolled up into fading posters, album covers, tail fins, juice of yesteryear drained like an infected ear, memories of a previous life huddled together with the shadows at City Lights.