Dear Editor, October 25, 2003
If your paper does a story on the fify-five pound poetry panels in the "arts district", you might do a sidebar on the "Deep Poetry Project" (poetry about holes in the sidewalk) here in west Berkeley. Examples:

Whence This Hole, C. Denney whence this hole so round and wide centered in sidewalk's divide waiting, quiet and so deep into which a foot may slip perchance a wheel or shopping cart shaking bones or joints apart?

Hole Sonnet , C. Denney so shall I walk traversing with great care between the lines or set my footsteps true upon the fractured face of disrepair despite the trouble which may well ensue; a full frontal assault on wayward toe a leap, albeit unplanned, into the air a twist, a turn, a torment then of woe for want of simple public works repair forfend this wanton pathway of distress both dignity and sanity demand a safer journey through this wilderness without having to crawl across the land O truant Council, hemorrhaging dough on banners, someday catch a fucking clue

Local Berkeley celebrities rate the holes...

I travel slowly
enjoying the clear weather
and then I fall down

Our poetry is deeper, sometimes six or seven inches deeper, and costs much less.

Thanks,

Carol Denney

....it's not exactly news when the rich take public money and use it to enhance their own property values. It's news when somebody notices.

You can contribute to the Deep Poetry Project by sending your deep and sensitive contributions to: " cdenney@igc.org ."

More Deep Poetry by C. Denney....

Haiku on Absence/ In absence what is reflects what Berkeley is not and less is not more	Speak Within murmur to the hole "You will always be safe from this stupid Council."	Psychology of Holes Haiku sidewalk manifests uneven and unstable sidewalk depression
The Abyss look in the abyss visualize repair know you are dreaming	Getting Through write to public works is anyone at home? check the "arts district"	Genesis DBA* owns land "arts district" is born can someone spell graft? (*Downtown Berkeley Association)

Stroll, by Mike Morgan A pleasurable stroll an unseen unrepaired hole a poor body rolls

Another Stroll, by Mike Morgan Walks buckle and bent levels uneven and rent all energy spent

There Are Sidewalks, by John Wetzel There are sidewalks in this city (and it really is a pity) that are tough enough to walk on (and much tougher if you can't) Some are plumb and flat (and pretty) but there's plenty that are shitty what with cracks and tilts and boggle-holes to make a wheelchair slant So we think it's kinda funny that the council spends our money setting plaques in upscale sidewalks that have never seen a break if it's art that you admire, just go grab a cab for hire 'cause the real art's in the downtown (but the councils on the take!) It's a really big conundrum how the guv'mint cerebellum finds it hard-as-carborundum not to mis-spend all our tin but they'll tell us that their artful, while they're spending by the cartfull "well it's not as if WE earned it" they will tell you with a grin There are people who are dying, bodies broken, wheelchairs flying 'cause they gotta use the roadway cause there is no sidewalk there but there's others who HAVE sidewalks but who want to spend tax dollars putting plaques into THEIR sidewalks to announce that art is there!

BLACK HOLE, by HB light, an artist in Germany

DARK CLOUDS ARROUND MY BRAIN
THOUGHTS DRIVING ME INSANE
CAN'T SEEM TO BREATHE
CAUSE ITS TICKING CONSTANTLY
THIS PAIN I KEEP SO CLOSE
IT IS WRAPTED AROUND MY SOUL
IF i COULD ONLY BREAK FREE
SO I CAN STOP ACTING LIKE A FREAK
WISH MY DRAMA WOULD STOP
BEEING SICK BEEING WORRIED NONSTOP;::::

I contemplate the depth beneath my stride
and count myself most fortunate indeed
for neither 'tis too broad nor 'tis too wide
my pathway to entirely impede
but cannot glance ahead nor look behind
nor revel in the beauty of the trees
nor can afford to note a cloud's design
for fear of landing sudden on my knees
I concentrate most carefully; each step
a small but wondrous challenge to complete
considering attention sidewalks get
In Berkeley, unless owned by the elite
connect the dots, O Council! fill a hole!
we live too close to being on a roll