Member-only story
Rose
Poetry
Rose, the loveliest of pagan namings,
see clear to another day
The past a foreign country:
Where we gave so much away.
Happy trails
Landed us in Golden Gate Park
San Francisco
Palo Alto was a world apart
Looking for a revolution
And this was it:
No empty-headed technologies
No silicon in the valley
Just a box of rain.
Such a long-long time gone by.
Such a short-short time to be there
Where God don’t check no papers
Black, white, hip, square
Loss of hope was not allowed,
No fear, no favors. no cynical cravers
A good man’s currency counted in notes
Composed of all the unremembered kindnesses
That keep us afloat. That prescience still wows me
Just learning how to be.
No consumers. No hoarders. No orders from above.
Living in harmony and learning how to love.
