"Street people . . .
asleep wrapped in light blue blanket . . .
Eyeballing aretes and buttresses rising above them . . .
Slowly check out the air for the fall of excess,
Of too much, flecks of extra,
From the higher-up folks in the sky . . ."
Read this Gary Snyder poem this morning, then went downtown, and the contrast to the in so many ways, pseudo-love of the day before seemed striking.