The woman is daft.
Invented her own sect.
Has upside-down sex.
With alternate species.
You see her on the street.
Corner of Sansome and Pine:
Morning rev up of sf financial types.
Instead, there she is, beneath a gigantic hat.
Hair wild, in coils, like a rattle-
Snake. Smiles like she’ s got the shakes.
Every cell in her seems to vibrate.
Psst! Could you turn that to low?
The poor have the best views,
Views sloping down to sea.
A green and yellow planet,
A blue band, rung with stars.
The poor have the best views.
You have to walk to get there.
Up three flights, narrow paths,
Houses rising steeply side to side.
No, no space for a car.
When the flag lifts, you see the coast:
Yellow curve of sand,
Framed by reaching branches.
Little humpbacked islands,
Soon they will drill for oil there,
Deep underwater. Once microscopic
Diatoms swarmed in salt, danced, died.
