BEGIN:VCALENDAR VERSION:2.0 X-WR-CALNAME:www.indybay.org PRODID:-//indybay/ical// v1.0//EN BEGIN:VEVENT UID:Indybay-18857518 SEQUENCE:19022797 CREATED:20230724T234300Z 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\nThe most recent poem earning the weekly Kate Kennedy $20 prize \n\nFor Tongo Eisen-Martin, poet laureate of San Francisco\n\nThe poet said the streets are saliva,\nWhich I took to mean slowly digesting the people,\nAbsorbing la puebla.\n\nThe food trucks and trailers are\nEach a park gathering pigeons hungry for crumbs, but\nThemselves eaten up by the gathering place where\nThe handouts fall: building\nOther peoples' houses, weeding\nOther peoples' gardens.\n\nSo I wonder, Mr. Poet,\nWith global warming and oceans rising,\nWill the city be submerged and \nThe people, la Puebla\nBe carried off to their own land where\nThey plant and eat, where\nThey build and inhabit,\nSaliva in their mouth,\nSweat on their backs,\nBelonging to the place?\n\n"The Earth belongs in usufruct to the living" --Thomas Jefferson \n\nBirds squabble-- \nevery single one-- \nOver what they find \nin public places; \nAnd what they win \nrequires gulping \nOr carrying off, \nsuch that, while that \nIs going on \nthe others eat too \n\n\n\nDalck Teblehei reads his $20 prize-winning poem, Mitchell'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 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 https://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2023/07/24/18857518.php SUMMARY:Bernal Litterati [sic] LOCATION:outdoor amphitheater at corner with Bernal Branch Library\n500 Cortland Avenue URL:https://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2023/07/24/18857518.php DTSTART:20230727T000000Z DTEND:20230727T010000Z END:VEVENT END:VCALENDAR