Holy Thursday
Duck Season on San Francisco Bay
early for the ferry
this morning the mother duck
with five live hatchlings in close formation
glides in the estuary shallows
first tender day of Spring weather
air still cold over the Bay
moving through it at our clip
face masked with a black cashmere scarf
as if others didn't already
think me different enough
Bay bridge and cinematic city
well up like 3D FX
most of the sparse passengers
de-board downtown stunned or stoned
We who travel on to the Wharf
brace before the chill
of Thrilling Golden Gate
Art farm Sausalito
in a Cezanne light
harbor seals bark
but our barque sails on
Sidewalks bulge but
the deluge is still to come
Decide I'll walk the main drag today
past the brilliant red buildings
visible from space
Lurid kitsch horror
entertainment billboards
hover overhead
Old tableau a dummy
overhead in a life preserver
gigantic lighthouse prism
revolve the kaleidoscope
of Fisherman's Wharf
outlandish vehicles
megawatt primary colors
the old Fisherman's neon raincoat
Flowers for the Dungeness crab
on Hyde Street Pier
the tall ships renewed and resplendent
Mild enough walk into frigid water
I liberate the small beach
children and others come and go
Alone again two iridescent ducks swim in
Upend themselves finding food
Small wave tosses one out of the water
onto his feet in the sand no problem
soon another wave lifts both out of the water
they poetically turn it into flight
Overhead a sinister silver plane
with a huge surveillance disk
goes out low past the Gate
and comes back again
Leaving the Port of Oakland
several gunboats were seen racing in
endless anxious preparedness
Big flock of black terns
on waters under the bay bridge
shift when the ferry comes
I've lost the butterfly effect
my heart doesn't flutter
into somersaults of elation
as it once did
as it once did
yet peace is briefly held
astonishment of topography
sea and sky orchestrations
the feats and stunts of civilization
the ease of an adventure such as mine
the new eastern span sifts
Mount Tamalpais
Stop at the Alameda side
two perfect ducks in flight
level with me
returning on the mythic path I just came
estuary trail the Bay bridge and Golden Gate
line up in the shimmer
the warmest day this year
metallic full moon
bangs a gong in Chinatown
purple gray light
Easter Outing
In kite-like solitude
rocks on a submarine walkway
high tide waters with creation look
not dirty old Bay
Two geese both in the seawater
preening they double themselves
kick rapid little kicks
flapping up to walk on water
throwing the heads back
to vibrate against wings
Married couple of ducks
on the ramp into the drink
a lone ducks flies over
both recoil instinctually
for a rival duck or a hawk
First kite I watched
flew over to the marina cove
and fell as if off a cliff diving
slender slingshot wings
Past the rocks a fisherman
casts out existentially
silent sail sound of the waves
ululating a neon green rock
grown heavy in moss
The two ducks of Easter
patrol the rail swimming
then come inside with me
From here I hear all the words
the water makes
Young Mom with blue green hair
her little girl dangles her feet
in the restless water
Lady with platinum bob
and a stroller
attempts to feed the wild ducks
They show no interest in her cookies
Little boy shows up throws stuff
at the ducks
takes off his shirt splashes about
Down Crab Cove multitudes
of geese on the water
squadrons squawk loudly
as they peel into flight
Heavy birds flying close by me
I raise my arms to help them
navigate away from me
This repeats itself
until the last group takes off
coming right towards me
I wave my heather denim jacket
they elevate without
changing course
bound to the sky
off we go
rising
bound to the sky
off we go
rising
Earth day three planets
in bright indigo twilight
evening star so near
Easter Mass at last
new life in accidental time
the Cross draped in white
Saints do not appear to the living
Only Jesus and the Virgin Mary
may appear in corporeal form
He ascended
She was assumed in heaven
Elijah rode a chariot into heaven
but hasn't been seen since
Jesus was last on the mount of Olives
Angels can appear in angelic form
which is not physical material
The Holy Ghost manifests
in metaphysical form
God the Creator
hasn't been seen on Earth
Since Moses and Mount Sinai
where He appeared as a Burning Bush
Egret flies below
I flatten slender grasses
try to do no harm
April 2019
April 2019
