SF Fetish

Feet to fire
While tied
Down in view
Of excess

I failed

Climb that
Rolling hill
That rolled
Over me


Decipher thunder
From the Muni
Train with the
Muffled mouth

Failed to move
My corpse to avoid
Being towed away
With added fines and
Sundry fees

I worship at the
Feet of St. Francis
Looking not to fall
Out of favor

A wound of
Flesh blushes as
I declare, I was
Born here

The crown
Jewel of the
Foghorn forlorn
Swelling the drums
In our ears

I fall at the
Feet of St Francis,
My face a rage
Of burning sage

I fall
Over and
Over again

In this city
Whose fetish
Is failure woven
And worn, re-tried
And re-tread

Time tested
With a limited

Whose brilliance
Is a postcard
Stamped shut

Straddles my back
While I sweep
The streets

(I am a fun ride)

St. Francis

(C) 2016 Tony Robles.


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