He spoke. She listened. I heard.

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Phebe Schmidt

David Samuelstern

Fiona Osborne

Phebe Schmidt

Jessica Wohl

 State of the art

That is the question

Listened to Patti talk of Whitman

Lines he wrote to all future poets

He with them in mind

Her with him in mind

A life of mostly poverty

Always following the authentic me

He spoke. She listened. I heard.

Afraid people are scared on my behalf

Kindred souls know the need

The way she spoke of Morrison

My understanding felt like sin

A cut out paper doll

Folded into her figure I danced in step

Carried this bible in my arms

Clenched to it for comfort

I'm looking for my creative tribe

The way I feel and know alive

I sat with old ladies in Fillmore square

Nylon knee highs

Church gossip

Wandering eyes to passerby's

Young boys in low pants

Girls with high pitched laugher

I wondered what they thought of me

Sitting on the pavement

Swaying to rhythm

Feeling the crash of the waterfall

Rainbow leaves scattered

Trying is too much effort

I listened to the jazz man play

Heard a new story this way

Get your hands moving into play

I tied a string to my wrist...

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Kendal Murray

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JeeYoung Lee

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Tomoko Yoneda

Crystal Morey

Part I:

Out in the garden where we planted the seeds

The roots disappeared in resting knees

Laying still starring into sound

Repeat ringing in my mental background

Cracked this core and no feelings were there

Just swaying in the fresh of moonlight air

You stir a clear and gentle rest

And with just one given request-

Be free--

That has continued to grow in me

And so I tied a string to my wrist

Hoping that this feeling will persist

Part II:

Today I watched an old woman tend to a flower bed

At the end of the massive park

Golden Gate magic spark

Her smile almost irked me in its size

A back bent deep from years of looking down

She still held the gardener crown

Water hose in hand she nurtured with care

Which inspired me to offer a prayer

Then I found a new street beat to walk

It flashed from the corner of my eye

Back tracked because I had to give it a try

If I walked down a new street everyday I would be happy.

One block between the grand church and community gym

I was happy to take this unexpected whim

Every stoop with its own array of potted plants

I fell into a trotting trance

Turned around by the spin of the wind

Between wall frames and two step stoops

A kite danced in choreographic flight

Trash cans tipped in the ocean sight

This is what it is to feel alive.

I witnessed a girl wearing black holding a bottle

Twilight lit with full of yellow tint

I might not call her beautiful

But she felt as real as could be

Taken into elusive poetry

The center of her presence filled me

And then quite immediately

Understanding dissipated in flee 

Today was a day of much and little

Nothing I know happened

But everything I needed sat behind my eyes

I think it could be something wise in disguise