APAD 5

the earth turned promisewise


When I was not the Emperor of San Francisco
Still there was a strip of unbarren ground
run into a tumble of scent and sight
in homage of domestic untranquility

When I was not the Emperor of San Francisco
There was a stand of peppers shined red
against the brick and lilies that grew
in tall discord of any plans

I was not and am not and most likely
shall never be the Emperor of San Francisco.
Still there is a strip of unbarren ground
soaking the spring rain and dreams

Of a profusion of bright tastes and sights
blending in desires of another spring.