Poem written on the day of the
total lunar eclipse in San Francisco
During the first warm week of the year
I hitchhiked down the coast to Devil's Slide
Beach. Yellow and red ice-plant flowers
swarmed down the cliffs. A hundred naked
oiled bodies lay upon the sand, as if felled
by the brilliant sun. Others played frisbee
at the edge of the ocean. The surf was
high, because of the imminent full moon.
The same evening I climbed a hill overlooking
Eureka Valley. Once a small quarry, the place
was studded with small jagged carved cliffs.
Wildflowers were visible everywhere in the
pale light. On the crest of the hill, some
persons meditated, chanted OM, and played
flutes. Others were drinking wine and making
foolish noises. An hour before midnight
the Scorpio moon gradually turned the color
of copper.