4 Piece Blues
By: Patrick Wagner

The asphalt was witness to
the greatest concert of all time,
it alone attentive, watchful,
all ears, the all expansive span
of it's reverberating walls capture
the essence isness , absorbing
bliss, as it has told me, as only
it can, the drunken mob slashing
the beauty, uncaring they struggle
fight uphill, the gravel and brick
contorting to wash out their macabre
existence; waves hitting to save
the Mission watchful eye Mary
from their blaspheme rites;
a caste apart the city, it's people
the musicians played for
the none listening but the green
men tossed carelessly, a reckless
attempt to deshallow oneself,
the green hear, and the walls
hear, weeping inward, convulsing
to dispel the tainted blocks
save its surrounding attention
from the heathenry of the night;
focusing only on the 4 lit
buddhabodies, floating in
a sea of apathy...