home became homeless part deux

continued..... out of the country vineyard wealth many were cast...those who had not yet graduated from Napa State  got put on long buses heading south to urban life, San Francisco...some came to rest in Tenderloin houses halfway meeting their needs...addictions rolled out red carpets, self-medicating feeds.

california she did her best to care for them all. gave them a place in a city where they could coexist. sealed with a golden gate kiss.

for this we thank her, california the sweet. with hands grasping out from 3 point restraints, and kicking of feet. her economies had no scale, always delivered fresh, never stale, consider silicon valley hitting quality of life, direct to your doorstep like the mail.

So when she found that she was homeless, her vineyards she did seek, got drunk off her own land, solar winds left her weak in her dustbowl.  Her fog become smog, no grass without rain, the seals out at seal rock just bitch and complain.
Gave too much of herself, dear miss california. tossed from like to dislikes, or no one could afford her...she was destined to wash up on shore hypothermic. Wasted of energy and dried by the sun, she crawled through the valley, holding out her dry tongue. Nevada then took her clothes and her jewels off her skin, through bright Vegas lights saw wealth from within.
No matter how its told, or in what light its remembered, the truth will be told come every December. This beauty toward which dreams were aimed, she then made. Offered up from stark midday hot landscapes some shade. Farewell to her native sons she gracefully bade. They had the biggest part of her, her heart she confided.  The dreams that once sifted at sunset through toes in salt water, she buried them deep in the Donner pass snows.

For those who made landscaped of tenement type brothels, she let loose the spirits from her land something nasty.  Her timing was immaculate, just after dinner unwinding... when auras are susceptible, even more so with moonshine. The native ancestry came into their eyes, and the Europeans paced off and turned, aimed and fired. This is what happens when honor is not shown, when purveyors set on profit built bars over bones.

She thought they had learned, having traversed all dangerous territory and lived on to tell it. Nor did she deprive them of anything;  gave them all of it. She even unclasped her blouse to stranger, and hung tit. Not a thought preceded it. And her tragedy played out like her life, very simple. She who was home to so many, so freely....She who once gave shade and water, to point of no ending? for pack animals and coyotes from hills down descending. Her hands always outstretched, her neck always bending?


she, the maternal source divine, powerful and clean as the source of river....
she who the traveler of any place and any time,
exclaimed in various tongues 'so blessed to find'....
and to think, matters not, no thought can explain,
how this one so selfless could suffer the same?

She the source, she the home...

she died in despair,
without home
and
alone