Compass

San Pancho is a fingernail

never captured in acres or plots

7 x 7

they made bumper stickers of square footage

a place birthing itself as a future island

it’s not if — totalmente, cuando

Alcatraces

Liquid lung,

the contraction

of a creek

that shows & lapses due to the,

Luna & its magnetic mechanism

the measure of a village wrapped in a cloak

of Metropolis

all the fixins

provided by masons, whom,

cut angles thru our vast mass,

graduated from teenager foundations

to sit downtown

on wooden bench

she met me, with lunch in a strand

pulled out her full battalion

plastic-ware windows which put her delicacy in effort

the craft

geometric scope view

Ferry bldg.

clocking towers wrapped

in blessings

served supreme

she preps

& arranges

down on the 50 yard line

cars obedient @ red

Loco North Side

windows are down & that’s why the volume

sailed over into harbor

Seal rock

Mission rock

Double rock

primo mio

in full press

with the mother

of his child

she’s behind the wheel

it’s a humid day

but I would’ve opted for windows up

& a glass fish bowl

but he’s a devil dog

mystique of jarhead training kits

you can’t inject tough desert scorpion

there are zero, Sega cheat codes

that give ya Afghani surge

you can play war games, but how do you move in battle?

and I’m fully understanding

why he sought out comfort of crowds

validation from a crew

he’s airing out all the dirtiest laundry

sour notes

floated up the way

& biting my lip

to not mention the village

& the temple

which aligned

dos Primos

@ yo local yin & yang

plucking passion from molars

the other spitting spikes in traffic &

laying anchors

in a slow moving car attempting

to gain traction

they are gone

& I tend to my bliss

of blondie & what she’s baked

amuse bouche

a cat with a French name

adoring her in sunlight

I’m keeping silence

sacrificing the yarn

I want to tell

she’ll never meet that side of the familia

San Pancho is a fingernail

Seal rock

Mission rock

Double rock