I went to the de Young and then to Yerba Buena and then to the SFMOMA. This is what came of the visits. I wrote some poems. Save you eye rolls for after please. This is the poem I wrote after I told my students to write one for class.
with the sound of thunder behind me and sugar drops of water I sit on concrete.
two men fight in a circle, starting on their hands, slowly.
the child cries under the waterfall, but the sun still shines.
i see a shadow of a man writing, his hand, never letting the pen go, pink knuckles.
i am at the center of the world, dreaming of jet streams behind me while the sun embraces my neck.
I'm not sure this would be much different under the moon.
The coins reflect nothing but hopes, each a different color, each a different dream.
A child on his knees contemplates the rippling water as I contemplate him.
The tired sakura say goodbye to the hellos of the green, unwavering grass.
Men in suits, women in skirts, teenagers pass walking mirrors and look past.
Culture and history crowd this park, doves are pigeons here.
the ocean sky has no sand, no ships, and no whales.
My shaded eyes squint and I realize it is finally spring.
no snow here but the fog relents and we wait for the wave to come down.
Sadness is joy here, the sun warms the soul, and the sky cools the mind.
This one I wrote after visiting two museums and had a line just stick in my mind all afternoon. So I just had to write it down.
I like paintings of poets, drunks and men with beards.
Usually they are on in the same.
I don't like paintings of happy people,
Usually that moment of jubilation doesn't last.
It becomes unrealistic.
I like photographs of happiness.
That just makes more sense to me.
Happiness, though usually isn't that moving
No one has decided to take action
because of seeing someone laughing or smiling.
Sadness gets things done.