A ~Syndic No. 39 ~ Ferlinghetti Memorial
Syndic Literary Journal

Coney Island No.6


Coney Island of Mind  No.6

Narrated by Francis Poole


              They were putting up the statue

                           of Saint Francis

                      in front of the church

                           of Saint Francis

                                 in the city of San Francisco

           in a little side street

                                    just off the Avenue

                                                                   where no birds sang

             and the sun was coming up on time

                                                                    in its usual fashion

                        and just beginning to shine

                                                       on the statue of Saint Francis

                             where no birds sang


              And a lot of old Italians

                                                    were standing all around

                in the little side street

                                                     just off the Avenue

                 watching the wily workers

                                                    who were hoisting up the statue

     with a chain and a crane

                                            and other implements

   And a lot of young reporters

                                                in button-down clothes

     were taking down the words

                                                of one young priest

         who was propping up the statue

                                                          with all his arguments


                  And all the while

                                              while no birds sang

                                                                 any Saint Francis Passion

and while the lookers kept looking

                                                   up at Saint Francis

           with his arms outstretched

                                                    to the birds which weren’t there

     a very tall very purely naked

                                                   young virgin

       with very long and very straight

                                                straw hair

          and wearing only a very small

                                                          bird’s nest

                in a very existential place

                                             kept passing thru the crowd

                                                                                    all the while

                          and up and down the steps

                                                                 in front of Saint Francis

                her eyes downcast all the while

                                                                  and singing to herself



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