Feeling Blue in San Francisco

We got here by train It runs the tracks Wednesday nights I'm feeling blue in San Francisco My brother says The city pulls Me by the collar A white man in the station Sang a song for me And my tape recorder But I didn't press The right button A Black man played An electric … Continue reading Feeling Blue in San Francisco



I button my coat and step outside, leaving room between my gloves for a handshake. Here, no one. One of the street lamps standing at the edge of the lawn colors everything yellow except the night it won’t let you see: stars, moon, cadence, motion. Si j’ai des rêves ills sont pour l’amour ou la mort, … Continue reading Home


Because I knew Mama's garden's roses, I knew all roses. They (all) were white ones and pink ones, maybe florescent too if my eyes were young enough. Of course I'd ask if I could eat them (because they were so pretty). Were they dangerous? She says no, but they are bitter; better take them with our … Continue reading Roses