Poets Are Damned... But See With The

Taxi September Along Jessore Road Oxcart Skeletons Drag Charcoal Load Past Watery Fields Thru Rain Flood Ruts Dung Cakes On Treetrunks, Plastic-roof Huts Wet Processions Families Walk Stunted Boys Big Heads Don't Talk Look Bony Skulls & Silent Round Eyes Starving Black Angels In Human Disguise.

First Thought, Best Thought.

America I Used To Be A Communist When I Was A Kid And I'm Not Sorry.

There Should Be No Distinction Between What We Write Down, And What We Really Know.

We Are All Exposed To The Flash Bulb Of Death.