Insulting, a poem

Too poor to write? Too dumb to be important. That is what you say when you scoff at the literate, When you make “beautiful” synonymous with “bougie” Literature and Revolution, name one that never had the other. Yes, the old guard is no longer revolutionary, but you still have much too learn if you replaceContinue reading “Insulting, a poem”

Reading A Book Alone In The Redwood Forrest, a poem

Reading a book alone in the Redwood Forrest On the observational scale, I do sit here in the redwoods in lotus pose, with a copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance on a stack of logs next to me. What is the catch? Is that but the paranoid disillusionment of the redneck hippiesContinue reading “Reading A Book Alone In The Redwood Forrest, a poem”