"Fran San Cisco"
Unspoken words.
Poets sing ring.
The ice cream machine was part of the scene on Polk St. in the city of San Francisco.
The promised land for all.
A new call in my fall.
Part of the impossible situation.
All across our nation.
I picked it up on my television station.
L. M. C. -T.V.
V is for a voice I never had.
As a part of the silent show.
Get the fuzzy snow on my television's show.
Row my boat in a dream's moat.
There was snow this San Francisco's summer.
Which can blow the mind.
If you can catch this find.
In this ringing time for a platinum dime's head.
What I heard spoken but not said.
A beatnik's dead.
My face turned red,
A face to another place.
In San Francisco's red Golden Gate's cosmos out in space.
By Major Garbage.
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