the city is a dream/is poetry/is the imagination seeking its own harmony
a procedure of mind/soul/spirit/heart/stars/moon/sky/clouds
non-crystalline specific matter & energy emanating from varied sources wherein
all is not one nor one all/wherein the real difference is the similarity
between us all which is a beginning & an end/a culmination/but not a finality/& that all
life surrounds us /is within us and beyond/proliferating on a cosmic scale
that dwarfs the consciousness of exclusive patterns of punishments & reward
& speaks to us on vegetarian earth through bay/river/mountain/ocean/soul
& alliterative tongue of human hope/this minimal city built to human scale
to comprehend the mystery/the knowledge/the divinity of the cosmos
& beyond without clutter/without static conceptions & to live
in flux as the agent & reagent of human consciousness
for life is everlasting as is the spirit & conception
whether it be the child/the holy ghost/the daffodil or everlasting nature
here on this magic shore/I leave this temple without walls or paint
or material objects & look to the great ocean whether maritime or celestial/
wherein the great destinies of humanity & consciousness are to be preserved
& propagated & that was what is not humane is not cosmic
for the conception is greater than the act & ventures forth
& builds in the image of death though death is non-existent
thereby /I dedicate this soul nurtured in the fecund earth to the awareness
this consciousness I accept
George Tsongas
Thanksgiving 1967
San Francisco
source: San Francisco Oracle #11
Let there be laughter in the temple of god
"...tightly
knit obserbvations that take shape and form like a finely woven tapestry...Tsongas is one of the true masters fo the short poem and this book adds to his already considerable reputation." A.D.Winans, author of San Francisco Streets.