I hope it Goes On
A blinding rain storm behind The beacon Chambers
and out in front denizens scatter under
inclement thunder. Joanne Kyger
moseys down to brooklyn before bolinas, this hymn
shall honor her devotion over 15 years
to maidenhood blessed by poems.
it’s not enough to compare her
to movie-stars, Jane Fonda or broadway intellectuals
breaking shower lightening in Max’s Kansas City
And as sudden as it started, this downpour ends. Class
that’s what she’s got, what gives you a thrill
listening to her in bob Creeley’s living room
read or dancing out in berkeley, 1965 after returning from Kyoto.
Columbus Ave hoyden days, tripping down Telegraph Hill
i remember her at Halfway House managing
time spheres as deftly as orange plants or egg-plant salads.
in New York, heroic against warehouse derelicts
and dressing out middle-class fur coats, for a day on the town.
it’s not enough to be simply beautiful, one must
manifest magnificent sex and brains,
besides, endurance and in the sunlight by the windows at Annisquam.