missing the salt mines - NOT

a poem printed in Prairie Wind - in their Spring 1996 issue. remember the mantra - small presses need your support.

since i am on vacation, and deeply missing the paper machine, i'll offer up a work poem. seems appropriate, right? and speaking of work, did i mention how much i miss it, oh yeah, i did ...i heard the contract talks are off until late August. Again, scheduling conflicts. If nothing is resolved then, no talks are in the works until October. Geez. This must be a real high priority to someone. We've been without a working contract since March already. Oh well.


WEYCO POEM

we recycle cardboard
newsprint & dreams
here on the threshhold
of oblivion

fog drifts across the highway
the dark river mutters
dark heron laughs symbolically

we are the faces of america
in disrepair
we are the missing pieces
of the puzzle

floracarbons in our lungs
a sour wind telling tales we disregard
dark heron conversing with the dour river

we are the remnants of hope
all in a tangle
not even bohemian
in our struggles

frost on the wind
steam swirling from rusting metalic vents
dark heron disappears in to icey fog