digging the underground

Open Pages, New Create Which keys to press What is the Spirit telling me to say? I went to Terni once There is a fountain there in the piazza All around it the signs of the Zodiac I was writing Virgo in Umbria then So I stood by the Virgin, my sign And the water flowed Maisie took my picture My little muse, herself an artist Then we went to the jazz festival and ate sushi When I looked at the picture later Maybe when we were sitting on the steps of the cottage Feeding our rescued kitten some leftover tuna roll I saw how beautiful it was. Not me. But there was this pole sticking straight up outta my head And then the fountain flowing all around me And so I was beautiful too and so was Maisie And the cat and the jazz and the sushi And the thousands of people out in Terni that night The night of the expat art exhibition, The night I saw what this is. Something solid Connected through the thickness of my old skull To the softness of my mind, the veil thinned The flow sacred, the truth splashing us Every now and then

I'm out of money And I'm out of cigarettes But I'm on to something I'm in to something Re-vo-lu-tion-ar-y Woah. What etymology Now that I've written it that way Even if syllabically incorrect Because the "vo-lu" is Latin Volvere—to turn And we are at the pivot now Shifting time Careening madly in the future This actual present moment Writing ourselves, Writing history as it occurs. You are alive, I am alive In the here and now And all the spaces in between And I've already written that line Somewhere else And my memory holds. All the words

San Francisco! We have arrived. A long journey But we are finally here Hills, chaos, mud Ceaseless hammering We build this city Earth trembling But we build anyway The city wants to rise Water shining, islands gleaming No prisons yet, or bridges Only freedom and angels The ships pour through Our golden gate Paddle upriver to the golden land We build this city For you To find rest and joy Your work in the mines In the veins in the rivers The plagues in the camps What provision do you need What entertainment Let us serve you Dancing girls, beer, gaming Tin pans, pickaxes, tents Fine cooking, good company Someone to remember your name After time toiling In the deep, dark lonely places Our scales are fair For the dust you bring Our scales are fair Here you find justice