Herzlandschaft (NaPoWriMo Day 5)

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By day, it’s Golden Gate
Promenade, a strip of trail
along a line of shore; by night
only my dreams wander
these desolate moors…
they transmute into sadscapes,
places tracing their charcoal
over my frottaged thoughts:
I tread over weeds, the weathered
skeleton of a stubborn old tree
a mound of cicada shells.
I hear the bees buzz their dirges.
All day long, a wild sea cries
trying and failing to take to the sky,
great wings of water reach out while
pelicans and cormorants float calm
on its roiling surface, then with a taunt
they call out, rise, and take flight again.
Awake at night, the shadows under
my eyelids throw stones at autumn’s
last moon, a strange bloom flowers
its truth, taking root in the sandy soil
of my mind where I lie buried beneath
an avalanche of you.



Looking up, I see the first glints of moonrise
the gloaming sets fire to Berkeley’s hills
a thousand points like rogue suns
flicker wildly in the reddening distance
gilding glass and rooftops into a massive blaze
of champagne light. It’s my favorite time of day.
The whole world is flooded with champagne,
swan-gliding on those bubbles, intoxicated,
inviting me to drift on its gold tide with nothing
above my shoulders but the evening…

Tonight, I spy with my little eye three women
on a park bench watching that fat old sun set,
they lap up their red red wine out of plastic cups
like the chic alleycats in an old Disney film might.

A Marina Safeway bag that must
have toted their pirate booty, not quite
anchored and moored, its white plastic
fluttering in the breeze – a flag of surrender.


One of the felines says to me
cheekily, lifting her Dixie cup
when I smile at their lapfest.


I reply, toasting them with my invisible
wine flute. We all laugh. I continue past
sashaying along on my shoreline path while
day melds into night, and bay into sky.

Tonight, I witness with softer eyes
as the stars switch on, one by one,
knowing beneath their gaze, we’re never alone,
and, starlit once again, I wend my way home.



I included a little slideshow of some pictures that I have taken as walk along Golden Gate Promenade at Crissy Field in San Francisco.


2 Comments Add yours

  1. love the sad reflections of the first poem contrasted with the ease and peace of the second one. so true how we’re never alone, we always have the stars above us. great pics too. san francisco looks beautiful. i’ll get there one day.

    1. ccthinks says:

      Thanks, lovely… I’m not sure how well these both work together but since they were prompted by the prompt, I threw them both in… I may write a third to act as a segue that will provide a smoother transition between them. You should definitely visit San Francisco… do it in April, May, September & October that way you’ll avoid foggy and rainy season. xox

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