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CREATED:20230510T031100Z
DESCRIPTION:San Francisco authors read from their work. That means you, too. \nSan 
 Francisco located stories given preference. \nMic-less open-mic. 
 \n\nLoose-leaf authors \nscat \nter \nwords in \nthe wind sha \ndow \nof a 
 library \n\nThis week James Lawerence reads his $100 prize-winning short 
 story, "Antietam" \n\nLast week Dalck Teblehei read his $20 prize-winning 
 poem, \n\nMitchell's \n\nHer long, thin arm pointed the way to Mitchell's 
 Ice Cream where \nA line, thin as her arm but much longer, \nStretched up 
 the sidewalk. \nDespite the two scoops, her arms remained \nThin and long 
 as time, which \nHas all but obscured her face; \nAnd if it weren't for 
 Thoth in regalia \nDown in the cavern of the BART station eliciting \nHer 
 laugh, \nI wouldn't have that. \nWhat's sweet after all these years is 
 Mitchell's \nAnd not the kisses, thick and long, we never took. \n\n\n$20 
 prize for the best Real Estate-centric poem!! \n\nHERE'S A PAST BERNAL 
 LITTERATI WINNER: \n\nSAN FRANCISCO'S FAILURE TO COMMUNICATE ABOUT REAL 
 ESTATE \n\nThe hills are bedrock \nLifted up by subduction \nJust like the 
 high rent \n\n\nAND ANOTHER: \n\nI've got an electric bi-i-eek \nI've got 
 an electric bi-eek \nSometimes I don't switch it on, but \nIt's still easy 
 to ride; \nI listen closely to the talk I cruise by, and \nMost everyone 
 has something, \nSomewhere they're going; \nEven when I pass by the 
 mortuary, \nThe nomads in tents face the statutory, \nPropane camp tanks 
 feeding Fentanyl to the masses, \nAnd men and women all making passes. 
 \nRussian oil splattered roadkill debris; \nI hit every red light when I 
 ride this street, \nBut still I only hear half that I meet: \nI'm still too 
 fast for the others; \nListen now, sisters and brothers, \nI ride an 
 electric bi-i-eek \nI ride an electric bi-eek \n\n\nAND HERE'S ANOTHER 
 \n\nThere are murals around town painted by Rubin Rude: \nThe faces of 
 public places \nSuch as, for instance, the Bernal Branch library's eastern 
 wall. \n\nIt strikes me, though, that in Women's History Month \nWomen 
 muralists ought to get half the space, don't you think? \nEvery year we 
 ought to put the vertical places up for auction \nSo that who does the 
 talkin' isn't just who got there first. \n\nYeah, let the boys pay the 
 girls not to put up stuff if \nThe boys want to keep that public viewshed 
 theirs. \nI mean, if the girls like the stuff already there, \nDon't bid 
 for the space. Let it ride. \n\nBut humdinger, if Benioff wants to shout to 
 the world \nWith that great big outie thing, but some gal with a brush 
 \nAnd a can of paint has something to say, \nI say make him have to pay her 
 not to splash her story in the air. \nIt's our sky, isn't it? \nWell isn't 
 it? \n\nAND ANOTHER: \n\n700 trees down in San Francisco; \nTheir roots 
 loose in the rain-bloated earth, \nTheir boughs yardarms caught in gale 
 after gale \nTill the keelson snapped, \nCracking sidewalks into 
 white-capping chop. \nAnd elsewhere, everywhere, all around town it’s a 
 raggedy old place, \nBent and shorn by plague and \nA long, wet winter the 
 likes not seen for 44 years— \nMe too, long in the tooth, long on 
 remembrance, no longer merely a lad with big ears for the old-timers’ 
 tales, \nBut myself witness, back then, to the longest pleated turns of sun 
 and drenching winter storm-blown screaming Hell ever known by living soul. 
 \nAnd you? Don’t ask, don’t tell \nLest I pop your skaldic, pompous 
 truth, \nWhich, like mine, \nNever heard from Noah’s lips \nThe whopper 
 drowned the world. \n\n 
 https://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2023/05/09/18855935.php
SUMMARY:Bernal Litterati [sic]
LOCATION:the outdoor amphitheater outside the Bernal Branch library\n500 Cortland 
 Avenue\nSan Francisco
URL:https://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2023/05/09/18855935.php
DTSTART:20230511T000000Z
DTEND:20230511T010000Z
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