I

I
If i can stop saying it
Stand quietly, without uttering it
But I still am
Where else is it coming from
Within, without, everywhere?
I don’t know, but that elsewhere
Has a pulse
Throbbing like a thumb
That got too close to a 20 ounce framing hammer
Except overjoyed instead of blood-blistered

The merciful fog of the San Francisco Bay
Has wrapped itself
Like the Ice Queen’s underpants
Around our unprecedented heatwave
Dampening its incendiary influence

Something is always on the verge of catching fire In California
Myself included
On Tuesday the day started with dusk
And stayed that way until dusk
No one could figure out when to get out of bed

Is everything upside down
Or has anything ever been right side up
I feel a gyroscope inside
Always righting itself
Spinning the wobbling tune
That what really is
Always is
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