larkin

There were also always a small group of prostitutes on the corner of Larkin and Sutter.

Aside: The closing reference to Philip Larkin is amusing, as he was a racist and misogynist.

The following two poems by Larkin inspire me in a backwards sort of way.

Mike Larkin made a follow-up post to the mailing lists mentioning some upcoming work.

I walk up and down Larkin regularly, and I've never gotten any of that kind of treatment.

I have seen street prostitutes on Post between Larkin and Hyde a few times, but not consistently.

We also got offered some crystal meth in front of that liquor store on Geary and Larkin while casually talking to some prostitutes.

I walk south down Larkin every day and turn left (heading East) down Post.

> There were also always a small group of prostitutes on the corner of Larkin and Sutter.

Philip Larkin has been mentioned already in this thread.

My friend and I would turn onto O'Farrell heading eastbound then take a left onto Larkin where we witnessed some of the worst things.

Wikipedia thinks Larkin had some kind of Victa.

In the words of the poet Philip Larkin, we're all "stumbling up the stair/into fulfillment's desolate attic."

Second is Larkin's Poem "To Failure", which remindes me that I likely will not fail spectacularly, but slowly everyday, almost without notice, when I let the day slip away without achieving at least one small step towards a goal.

I'm not sure what you mean by "real world statecraft", but when I hear that I have to think of Larkin's "This Be The Verse": fools in old-style hats and coats, / Who half the time were soppy-stern / And half at one another's throats.

It's from Graham Larkin, curator of the National Gallery of Canada, whom he asked to adjudicate your claim: ""By even the most conservative standards (which your buddy seem to be applying), you'd need to go at least a few decades further, into the High Renaissance.

Philz Coffee (at least the one at Golden Gate and Larkin) has this.

My friend got egged while we were walking south on Larkin, somewhere between Post and Geary.

Larkin wrote that his mower had 'stalled, twice' and that he found 'A hedgehog jammed up against the blades, / Killed.’ It’s a seriously pathetic mower that would be jammed by a hedgehog.