Saturday, November 24, 2007


I pick up trash by the street.
I fill a garbage bag
with whiskey bottles, fast food debris,
and unmentionables.

I wonder if these gifts appear
through some miscomprehension
of the free-speech doctrine
guaranteed by the constitution,

or if the trash's disposition
is the result of civil
or divine disobedience,

or perhaps, if some of the drivebys
are just thoughtless
or downright angry

No comments:


I told my grandson Charlie what my teacher told me 60 years ago... that a work of art is finished when none of the original idea remains. So...