Tisa Walden
WASHINGTON SQUARE PARK ARCANE
5 Days in September, 2014
PSALM 102:6
I am like a pelican in the wilderness, like an owl among the ruins
PSALM 102:7
I lie awake and feel like a sparrow alone on the roof
September 21, 2014. 6 o'clock in the morning
enormous red-tailed hawk in the trees of the park
where I venture every morning to the cathedral
still hoping to see dear Howard I think/sitting
in the pew with a bowed head praying
dark sky
sun not up
seagulls cry
if I admit my fear do I also admit a lack of faith?
. . .
Chinese man w/ white hair
begins a Tai Chi routine
silently as if under water
limbs in slow-motion
sound of raking
the groundskeeper
sound of a flute
rain smell
old Chinese emerge to walk the circular path
surrounding the park/black dog jogging after
ball thrown
I walk over to a park bench
see 3 russet potatoes in a plastic bag
sit down one falls to the ground w/ a thump
blue wheelbarrow upside down
on a mound of dirt/big noise garbage truck
lovely old Chinese guy in white sneakers
1, 2, 3 crumpled forms of homeless sleepers
lush bush with purple flowers
3 Chinese ladies in purple shirts
ancient wrinkled street woman
cigarette dangling from her lips
velvet whispering dots of mist
o my father gone 6 months now
. . .
the poplars
6 in a circle
big redwood
green/black moss
growing on the tree bark
bottlecaps strewn about
empty apple juice jar
tiniest moth
Chinese man
trancelike
pre-Tai Chi
bedraggled pigeonfeather
all that is here simultaneously
pitchblack ravenfeather
man in a funny raincoat
walking a Pekinese on a leash
cigarette butts pepper the grass
unseen above/ jet engine
dogwalkers
girl on a cellphone
red helicopter
Harbor patrol
American flag
flapping
breeze from the NE
soft against my cheek
footfalls
man running
quiet bell
red plastic cup
lodged
in a newly
planted
small
tree
hawk
perched
at the top
of the cathedral
cross
dainty
white poodle
(tears well)
cathedral clockchimes
hummingbird
pigeons/ravens/sparrows
tree branches sway
smell of bread
whistling
raven caws then dives
at the hawk still perched
on the cathedral steeple
6 old Chinese women
laughing/speaking Chinese
walking home
nails
on the sidewalk
September 22, 2014. 6:03 AM
no stars
car engine starts
another morning
waft of sea breeze
cool/salted
on the far hill
spots of red
in the distance
vague treeshapes
shades of blue
blacken the sky
on the window sill
4 pennies
looking down into the street
sweet breeze from the ocean
beside me Hart's piano draped
in a white sheet
skateboard
motorcycle
sky bluing
blue w/ light in it
red neon triangle
2 old Volkswagens
golden streetlamp
unnamable blues
tint the sky
black coffee
white cup
6 peaches on the countertop
blue flames leap from the gas jet
Higgs Boson
THE GOD PARTICLE
bicycle zips by/door "bang!"
sea lions barking
3 trees
at the foot of
Angel Island
wets the drought
niece in Maine
the one I went to Yosemite with
back from Greenland rang the phone
the Island sits in the silver water
Nob Hill slopes sharply upward
Telegraph Hill behind me
Coit Tower at the top
I stand in the street
sky now greyish/white
tugboat in the Bay
making its way
Westward
strolling along Stockton to the park
darkish/scarlet Bougainvillea
white fire-hydrant w/ the figure 8
stenciled in black
discarded Camel pack
tangerine roses
red SHUANGXI cigarette pack*
*I pick this up
put it in the pocket
of my Barbour jacket
gold Chinese letters
big brown leaf
climb the cathedral steps again
into the grotto to light a candle
past the resplendent purple Irises
touch the finger of John the Baptist
cold toes of the statue of Christ
for a moment
somber silence
tattered man in the back
Chinese girl with the black coat
candles flickering below the stained-glass window
murmuring voices from a back room somewhere
enter Washington Square Park again
time-capsule statue of Ben Franklin
man in a blue sleeping bag shifting
pink tinge around the clouds
white terrier "Tess"
smell of wet ply-wood
. . .
I ask the Black guy in the fluorescent vest, "What's the name of this tree?"
"It's a Sycamore," he says, "I have to rake the leaves all the time."
He turns the sprinkler system on. They spit across the grass and awaken
a man in a sleeping bag who jumps up startled.
bronze plaque embedded in the asphalt reads "Barbary Coast Trail"
yellow, green, red ladders leaning against the chain-link fence
wild parrot-flock flies overhead screaming
shopping cart
homeless man
striped blanket
blue crumpled map
downtown San Francisco
. . .
I sit for a moment on the tree stump
carrying a white feather home/hungry
fellow with one crutch talking to himself
young woman/beautiful red hound says "hello"
I saunter home slowly
sunkisses the brown earth of the Island
I swing around the corner up Chestnut
see from the street my 2nd-story open window
climb the stairs as I have for 26 years now
red cigarette pack/feather
brought back excavated
from the plaid flannel
of my jacket pocket
adorn the kitchen
table
DAY THREE
5:18
another autumn
arising pre-dawn
to watch the bluecurtain lift
wander down to the park
me and the old Chinese
walking in circles
watching the hawkwheel
aloft in his azure field
. . .
orange Karman Ghia rolls through the intersection
wind-up-toy engine like the one I flew through the
rural darkness in back to Susan's farm house
whose rooster crowed in the morning
all those many moons ago from
the University of Maryland
. . .
my neighbor a landscaper wears reddish dreadlocks
carries shovels/a green hose/canvas tarp to his pick-up
sky still dark 3 men enter the intersection
# 1 stops to look at the boxes on the sidewalk
pulls a book out
# 2 has a black pony-tail
# 3 limping
palest yellow/pale pink paint
an attempt to externalize my
sense of the Divine/Chinese
man digging in the trashcan
computer clock says 6:02
leaning from the open window
vague Big Dipper/fan whirrs
turpentine
. . .
slight chill
white building
on the far hill
Noh ghost
DAWN
I sit here in the window dreaming
now the great blue dawn beginning
suddenly a huge cruise ship appears
moving slowly through the water
down to the dark park again
old Chinese man with a radio
tinny old Chinese music playing
greets me in broken English
I enter the quiet/silent cathedral
dip a finger in the font of holy water
candle flames flicker on the statue
"25th Sunday in Ordinary Time"
fear crawling down my spine like a spider
. . .
exit the church
reenter the park
monumental conifer/ornate steeple
weathered solid oak table/big red truck:
sign reads "Golden State Lumber"
MORNING THE FOURTH
4:40 AM
water boiling
pen out of ink
stained sink
looking out the window for the promised rain
all the pain of the peoples of Earth
still it's a beautiful world
computer light
John's photograph of Ruby
Martin's old dog now dead
hangs on the wall in the kitchen
big black Harley motor starts
"thwap", "thwap" newspapers
landing on the sidewalk
burnt the coffee
(Richeson Oil Mediums
The Shiva Series
Venice Turpentine
pyramid-shaped glass bottle
3 small tubes of Sennelier oil
blue, cobalt-violet, unbleached titanium
CADMIUM ROOD MIDDEL
(VERMILJOEN) OLD HOLLAND)
. . .
dawns on me to walk to the dock
down Stockton to Fisherman's Wharf
5:15 yet dark/ISIS on television
turn the machines off
return to the window
symphony in the street
back to the kitchen
3 bananas
no end in sight
time stops
yellow cab
flys by
#333-3333
. . .
DAY FIVE
Jack called drunk from Colorado
Dominic's crushed/hushed voice
ex-wife diagnosed with cancer
rain running in rivulets
6:22/Sugimoto photo
no umbrella
old hooded sweatshirt
threads unravelling
bright gold letters
"Lucky Brand Dungarees"
"American Made"
O San Francisco
2 sisters so far from me
½ sister in New York City
post-rain
air
elixir
I stand an aging woman
in the wet street
eyes resting on the Bay
lighthouse searchlight on the Island
sweeping round and round as the sun rises
brown soaked leaves
clog the gutter
huge fat slug
doesn't move
smashed front
of the Honda
grey hydraulic chair
abandoned on the sidewalk
quiet cathedral cavern
outside a woman shouts
fragrant white flowers
miniature marble Pieta
rich church/impoverished people
city of St. Francis of Assisi/black-iron fence
erected to keep the drunks off the precious steps
here comes Momo-the-painter with his messianic hairdo
LA GLORIA DI COLUI CHE TUTTO MUOVE PER L'UNIVERSO
PENETRA E RISPLENDE - DANTE- PARADISO C-I
words engraved across the cathedral entrance
spikes jut out of the head of Christ to keep the birds off
dark green park benches wet with morning dew
ear-splitting leaf-blower blowing leaves
Black man curled up in a storefront doorway
wall of purple/blue morning glories
everywhere I wander
homeless people sleeping
this one has an orange hat
recumbent on soggy cardboard
yesterday an old woman with dementia
white hair in wisps flying out sideways like wings
rushed up to me as I sat on a bench in Washington Square Park
"What are you doing!" she exclaimed with a big grin
I'd been peering at the minutia on the ground
blue rubber- band
yellow balloon
fat sparrows
fini
Copyright ©2014 by Tisa Walden
John Gossage has over 30 photography books published,
including books by Aperture and Steidl. He has shown world wide
including shows at the National Gallery of Art, The Rochester Center,
and recently at The Art Institute of Chicago and Fraenkel Gallery in San Francisco.