Casing the Headlands

Casing the Headlands

Snappy cannons in these hills
conveying what’s American.

Here by Rodeo Beach
before there were A-bombs
mammoth gun turrets
kept enemies at bay.

In this place orderlies
from distant eras congregate.
A wistful klatch of inductees
gath’ring under clumps of trees.

Attachés from long ago
in silver hazes by the sea
spindly ring metallic notes
buoys fiddle dee dee

Gazing out at blue sea stack
(along this coast a shimmery glaze),
taking in the crashing waves

Like Helmut Lang in days of yore,
a slinky wisp perambulating
prancing this majestic shore
wandering ’round I lurk and ponder Hill 88.

What ghosts will some strange cat see
fifty years from now?

Will there be another batch of narley
spirits by the sea?
Gaucho reincarnates
loping down scrubby slopes?

Maybe they’ll be perched beside
a dreamy wag like me
who also comes to perorate…
a little philosophical by Hill 88.1


1 Rodeo Beach & Hill 88 are in the Marin headlands of Golden Gate park, locations which for a hundred years plus were part of a monster military base. Happily, these are now a staging ground for spectacular sunsets.


© 2017 by Kelsey Wilder

The Mass Transit Blues


Nonexistent safety net
no help for the ones who get
billed a hundred thousand times
the going rate getting sick
swindled by some Kafkaesque
health insurance bureaucrats

Jerked around and fingered
like a piece of human lumber
treated like a grim subhuman
tagged with ID number

Corporato profiteer robots far and near
pawns and peons rushing ’round
(ambitious sorts who do not care and
could not be more cruel)
obsequious and cavalier
greed has become cool

Where is love where compassion
human warmth not in fashion
space cadets in public spaces
sporting ugly stressed out faces

Wondering and pondering
what does all this mean
jittery fingers palpitating
up & down purse strings
challenged brains don’t care
nothing works any more

Pacing floor corner store
trudging down a filthy sidewalk
between trash heap squares and screws
miseries a zillion billion bundled up shoving throughs
between every hangdog face
the mass transit blues


Snapping turtles left and light
snip snap about grand dysfunctions
underpinning urban blight


-copyr. 2017 by Kelsey Wilder