My Fall Equinox post is this image of a manuscript from a few years back:

Marc Zegans, Lyon Street, Bamboo Dart Press (2022), 56 pp. 

One is tempted to invoke some apt epithet from pre-1980 days to characterize this new collection by a veteran multi-tasking artist. His own introduction (preface-foreword-presentation) makes it clear that his 21-poem sequence is an adventure in memory and reminiscence about coming up and belonging in a special place: San Francisco, California, or as we called it as kids, and many (most in the area) still do, The City. In these largely experiential lyrical instances, one is taken to some 30 different locations (hang-outs, parks, clubs, eateries, shorelines; and there is a smartly conceived map with index of it all!) each with its own significance but none more endearing to literarily-inclined readers than the City Lights book store (complete with Ferlinghetti; Williams and Whitman show up later). This passage may evoke municipal illumination and/or suggest The City of Light(s), Paris, where the flâneur of Baudelaire made observant urban wandering a thing.  To be sure, "light" is among the keywords in the overall scheme here. And oh yes, the French connection, which is, by coincidence, in the very title of the book. As for "flowers of evil," a more contemporary version could be "sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll," present in Lyon Street in different manifestations. First love?, yes; hook-up?, yes; variations?, yes.  The soundscape (musical soundtrack) tends more toward jazz (the subject's stomping grounds included after all North Beach) but there are blues, punk in one title, and flamenco somewhere else (rock is of the literal petrous variety). Listeners should also attend to voices and the crashing of waves, for the ocean and the bay are somehow as important as landmarks. SF is also a city of hills (like Teheran, Athens, Rome, Lisbon) and one must consider topography: the first poem is on a "plunging hill," the last contains "scrubby hills," and the title spot is a tumble of stairs replete with echoes. The visual side of things plays its part; the keen opening poem has fractured lines, open spacing at the end, and falling. Ascent and descent obtain passim. The penultimate poem is where mise-en-page, layout of words and verses, best reflects the ups and downs of this urb. Funny, one of the liveliest pieces takes us to Dead Man's Point, where heights are again, well, the point. Oh, and you will want to notice that all the poem titles (in Fog City Gothic font no less!) are enclosed in oblong outlining (ovals, ellipses, rounded boxes), which nicely suggests both street signage and city blocks. Perfect combo of graphic form and titular content. The final stop is at the seashore (in the sea) not any concrete spot. It is named "Starting" and that, my friends, is a reminder regarding origins and commencement, as well as a hint to go back to the top and re-read the sequence, just as the waves roll in and back out, night becomes day, and day night.    Charles A. Perrone 9/23/22.