North Beach Crawl to Chinatown
If you don’t have a boat
on the San Andreas fault line
you do without buoyancy
but don’t stumble into Sam Wong’s Hotel
at three o’clock in the morning
after drinking with poets at Spec’s
looking to rest your aching head
you’ll be scolded for waking the owner
and the complimentary wonton soup is cold
Fingertips Rattle Drum
feel the imagination
a gang of potential
miles of breathing
anonymous name
swallowing hard
earth’s smoke
weeping and hallucinating
ancestors’ visions
the poet’s eye
using peyote
in a retching cleanse
soars a crescendo
upon the blue sky
water rock
where the moon shines
to the bottom vibrant
river tremors quicken
sacred afterlife rhythms
earth’s tumescent shadow
uncoils a gourd down
into a wave of tears
to chart a deluge
and begin healing
the universal womb.
