.
Lo-Cost Liquor, Berkeley: photo by efo, 30 July 2005
Postcolonial history reads differently for the winners, enveloped in the conceptual transparency of their own guiltlessness, their difference.
Numbly so musing when a clumsy footfall in the night startles the mother deer out of her browsing covert on the hillside of the haunted house above Southampton,
a darker shadow against the deep background obscurity, and she springs from the concealing underbrush into the path of the approaching headlights,
her two maturing offspring follow and somehow as incredible as fairytale apparitions all three shadows emerge a long moment later on the other side of the road.
To every wild creature the signal of homo sapiens approaching is always a credible threat. The incredibility of the certainty
of the universal threat posed by homo necans hangs in the wet air under the thick umbrella of fog, far away across the invisible bay from the Season Opening Opera Gala
far from the warm virtual fireside glow of cell phones bathing patrons supping upon caviar and egg mousseline, Maine lobster medallions, seared squab and Cherries Jubilee, unseen
far away across the Bay, off the freeway exit, the cool neon azure circle of the Blue Moon Saloon floats in particulate city mist
above a shapeless homo-sapiens-size figure clutching a crumpled brown paper bag,
as though the contents of a brown paper bag at the bus stop on San Pablo were the Lotus, the last chance to be honest.
Numbly so musing when a clumsy footfall in the night startles the mother deer out of her browsing covert on the hillside of the haunted house above Southampton,
a darker shadow against the deep background obscurity, and she springs from the concealing underbrush into the path of the approaching headlights,
her two maturing offspring follow and somehow as incredible as fairytale apparitions all three shadows emerge a long moment later on the other side of the road.
To every wild creature the signal of homo sapiens approaching is always a credible threat. The incredibility of the certainty
of the universal threat posed by homo necans hangs in the wet air under the thick umbrella of fog, far away across the invisible bay from the Season Opening Opera Gala
far from the warm virtual fireside glow of cell phones bathing patrons supping upon caviar and egg mousseline, Maine lobster medallions, seared squab and Cherries Jubilee, unseen
far away across the Bay, off the freeway exit, the cool neon azure circle of the Blue Moon Saloon floats in particulate city mist
above a shapeless homo-sapiens-size figure clutching a crumpled brown paper bag,
as though the contents of a brown paper bag at the bus stop on San Pablo were the Lotus, the last chance to be honest.
Jay Vee Liquors, Berkeley: photo by efo, 30 July 2005
Performer at the San Francisco Opera Guild's Opera Ball 2011, "An Evening in the Forbidden City": photo by Hardy Wilson/San Francisco Examiner
Tip Top Liquor, Berkeley : photo by efo, 30 July 2005
Performer at the San Francisco Opera Guild's Opera Ball 2011, "An Evening in the Forbidden City": photo by Hardy Wilson/San Francisco Examiner
Statewide Liquors 2, Berkeley: photo by efo, 30 July 2005
No comments:
Post a Comment