this delta lies on its side. rows and rows upon it s own government and crushed. summertime is over and the living is dead. and around midnight all hopes are looted. no one will ever come clean of the katrina of the new orleans and the stinking house of the setting sun. but it s the black and the blue of the loving on the shoes, let alone a dime or water, america, you are always scotched earth in our mouth. always a rain of disaster of streams of our broken eyes. now the rags are the most turn. our pores the poorest that can be worn in the souls shop. now that all is lost and there is only nothing to lose. long live the courage and the poor. they begin to waiver. [applause]. vennetia. i was enranged at your body enettia. chicanery that cried out of an awfulor gast. slowly i found you should side streets where you practice a strolling stillness without any engine sounds and the skies turning on into color and then eternal magnificence of twilight, it accompanies your every m
muling. the cat is indecent and i whom trying to be tidy, i whom trying to do things the purpose way, i who am sick from the shedding. i, am undone. my lover who lives far away opens the door to my room and offers pastry in a basket spun from his vision. it is closely woven. the kind of container some women collect. i have seen these in many colors but the basket he brings is simple. only black. only nude. the basket he brings is full of sweet burdens and i eat even the crumbs. as am i have not dined for days. my lover who lives far away opens the door to my room and offers tea made from the liquid he s crying. i do not want my lover crying and i am sorry i ever asked for tea. my lover, who lives far away opens the door to my room pretending he never cried. he offers tea and cold cakes. the tea is delicious. spiced like the start of our courtship. honeyed and warm. i drink every bit of the tea and put aside the cakes. my lover who lives far away opens the door to my room like
simple. only black. only nude. the basket he brings is full of sweet burdens and i eat even the crumbs. as am i have not dined for days. my lover who lives far away opens the door to my room and offers tea made from the liquid he s crying. i do not want my lover crying and i am sorry i ever asked for tea. my lover, who lives far away opens the door to my room pretending he never cried. he offers tea and cold cakes. the tea is delicious. spiced like the start of our courtship. honeyed and warm. i drink every bit of the tea and put aside the cakes. my lover who lives far away opens the door to my room like a man loving his strength. the lock i replaced this morning will not keep him away. my lover who lives far away opens the door to my room and brings me nothing. perhaps he has noticed how fat i have grown indulged. perhaps he is poor and sick as emptying his store. it is no matter to me any longer he has filled me already so full. my lover who is far away opens the door to my
that state for good. i heard this quote a while ago and i just loved it ever since. just before she died, gert trued stein was able to ask, what is the answer? she got no response. her last words were, in that case what is the question? it is not who is it, are we there yet, is anybody home. not, how much for the lemon, not, how much for the ivory, leopard, the peach. not, when are we leaving. not, how will we leave. not, do you know who she came with? how many clowns will hit in the car. the head of a pin? no one cares how many angels. no one cares what you think of the smart bomb corruption, the mobs. your opinion on deregulation, no one s concerned much the question is not who done it the question is not what s for dinner, what s your beverage, where s the beef? the question is not who is your daddy? is not, which way will the wind blow? is not, where s the car. you wash behind your ears; right . question is not did you turn off the oven or turn off the alarm what s that
(applause). i m the president of friends of mclaren park. it is one of the oldest neighborhood community park groups in san francisco. i give a lot of tours through the park. during those tours, a lot of the folks in the group will think of the park as very scary. it has a lot of hills, there s a lot of dense groves. once you get towards the center of the park you really lose your orientation. you are very much in a remote area. there are a lot of trees that shield your view from the urban setting. you would simply see different groves that gives you a sense of freedom, of being outdoors, not being burdened by the worries of city life. john mclaren had said that golden gate park was too far away. he proposed that we have a park in the south end of the city. the campaign slogan was, people need this open space. one of the things that had to open is there were a lot of people who did a homestead here, about 25 different families. their property had to be bought up