i should write a poem
but there's almost nothing
that hasn't been said
and said and said
beautifully, ugly, blandly
excitingly
stay in school
make love not war
death to all tyrants
where have all the flowers gone
and don't they understand at kent state
the troopers will shoot . . . again
i could write a poem
because i love walking
in the rain
and the solace of my naked
body in a tub of water
cleanliness may not be next
to godliness but it sure feels
good
i wrote a poem
for my father but it was so constant
i burned it up
he hates change
and i'm baffled by sameness
i composed a ditty
about encore american and worldwide news
but the editorial board
said no one would understand it
as it people have to be tricked
into sensitivity
though of course they do
i love to drive my car
hours on end
along back country roads
i love to stop for cider and apples and acorn squash
three for a dollar
i love my CB when the truckers talk
and the hum of the diesel in my ear
i love the aloneness of the road
when i ascent descending curves
the power within my toe delights me
and i fling my spirit down the highway
i love the way i feel
when i pass the moon and i holler to the stars
i'm coming through
Beep Beep
