to live?
- crazy rhythm of
scooping up barehanded
(all
the shovels already in use)
careless of filth and broken glass
- scooping up garbage together
poets
and dreamers studying
joy together, clearing
refuse off the neglected, newly recognized,
humbly waiting ground, place, locus, of what could be our New
World even now,
our revolution, one and one and one and one together, black
children swinging,
green guitars, that energy, that music, no one
each leaf of
the new grass near us
a new testament . . .
Out to the dump:
telling anyone what to do,
everyone doing,
acres of garbage glitter and stink in wild sunlight, gulls
float and scream in the brilliant sky,
polluted waters bob and dazzle, we laugh, our arms ache, we work
together
shoving and kicking and scraping to empty our truckload over the
bank
even though we know
the irony of adding to the Bay fill, the System has us there–
but we love each other and return to the Park.
Thursday, May 15th
At 6 a.m. the ominous zooming, war-sound, of helicopters
breaks into our sleep.
To the Park:
ringed with police.
Bulldozers have moved in.
Barely awake, the people-
those who had made for each other
