Casing the Headlands

Casing the Headlands

In these hills
enormous guns
defended North America.

Out by Rodeo Beach
mammoth 15 inchers
kept enemies at bay.

Gath’red by these clumps of trees
a ghostly klatch of inductees…
in this air orderlies
from other eras congregate.

Attachés from long ago
in silver hazes by the sea…
peeling off metallic notes
a buoy ripples fiddle dee dee

Gazing at some blue sea stack
(along this coast a shimmery glaze),
taking in thwacking waves

Like Helmut Lang in days of yore
prancing this majestic shore,
a slinky wisp I wander
trails around Hill 88.

Wondering what will be
fifty years from now?
Maybe Gaucho reincarnates
undisturbed and free,

Perhaps they’ll be scooched
beside another wag like me
who also comes to perorate
atop 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 Robert Lane Wilder

The Mass Transit Blues

Breaking right through safety nets
no help for the sick
billed a hundred thousand times
whatever is the going rate

Jerked around by Kafkaesque
health insurance bureaucrats
treated like a piece of lumber
peon tagged with ID number

Corporato profiteer robots everywhere
(ambitious souls who do not care and
could not be more cruel)
smarmy suits they swagger
pretending that they’re cool

Where is love where compassion
human warmth out of fashion
space cadets in public spaces
slinging mostly stressed out faces

Tightly wound minions croaking
what does all this mean
jittery fingers palpitating

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

  

-copyr. 2017 by Robert Lane Wilder