(hesperides)
terraces wrapped in evening
stalked by fog
this city nearly falling off the edge
exposes ironies with a smile
while still concealing evidence
not so easy to read her
laughing through the rows of eucalyptus
she hides behind the salt
& tempts the night with wine
all the sailors know her well
but children know her best
(I was seduced in a moment
arriving in morning dimness I suspected
less than I found around me in the light
standing among trees on a hilltop
I had to catch my breath
looking across the sudden crowd of colors
more than sight could bear to leave behind
she had me then)
a city so contained
straining with a vast energy to reach
outside the limits drawn by earth and ocean
perhaps to inhabit sky
the racks of hills and houses perch
astride a riven ridge
moored by bridges to a continent
that peers with narrowed eyes
over a shoulder from time to time
the city shrugs & smiles
& goes on being beautiful and wild
dawn herds the long slow legions to the city
crowded and awkward from the other side
she takes them like an old woman chewing gristle
endures the dull machinery of day
& when the halting rush escapes the hours
she sees the twilight take them home again
(the people have their own allegiances
share a hundred kinds of food and music
debate with life in houses and cafes
meet in temples and parks
to play their games & sing their songs)
between the ornate walls of history
behind the moving green of leaves
there is a rare & momentary glint
never quite lost among the colors there
soft and immediate like the feel of skin
sometimes the city stirs
maybe an indrawn breath
considering monuments grown indifferent
the names of saints & pioneers
clotted with relics of indignant pigeons
celebrated in oriental lenses
the city fondly catechizes legend
remembering delirium & gold
along the avenues redeemed from catastrophy
her birth was more preposterous than fantasy
her growth was shrewder than the touch of time
(I was another stranger
coming from the south behind a passing rumor
there were always stories between towns
& far away we began to experiment
she was gentle with pilgrims & we were young
some of us left our childhood when we came
I was discovered within my solitude
the city coaxed me to a sense of self
she knew my secrets then
& I was carried past all hesitation
to be a part of that conspiracy
no stranger to her anymore I know
she is the mistress of my memories)
the city flirts with millionaires & fools
cherishing all eccentricity she gives
her favor softly like a penny to a child
poets and madmen haunt her indulgent benches
she is kinder to her losers than any other town
not always so respectable herself
she acknowledges whores & winos
knowing that they made her as she made them
her subtle seasons move through easy streets
she lives within the pulse of night
& dances toward the dawn
to greet the weary ships her foghorns lead
home to san francisco
12/2/1982
Deric Morris
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