neonbright diamond, blacklettered,
'rough road" it states, in terse,
exact capitals
we're on the one road....
tarring it over, the fumes rise,
a hot fug thick into the air--shovel
it quickly--then press it down
to make our roads smooth again,
the black bands joining us, one to
one, to everyone
this land is my land.....
in all our small corners, papered
over with words, faint embroideries
upon the fabric we've spun
and the voices die with
a dying fall
ever and again
as we travel our roads,
each to his own destination--
shank's mare is fine for me
on any road, wet or dry
we're together now, who cares
as the starlings dart and
seek their breakfast out
rough roads made smooth
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