April was poetry month. I didn’t take enough advantage. Here’s one for May. From Gary Snyder, and his book of uncollected poems called Left Out in the Rain: New Poems 1947-l985
THEN
When everybody in the world has a car
and nobody knows the smell
people will be amazed at our carpentry
all the deer in zoos
they’ll remember wild animals and trees
call their housecats "tiger"
dream of the days
when men were poor and dirty–
it was great–
beggars, the wine-red saris
of outcaste Indian girls
lean hunger in the rain
–we were
alive, then
Kit Stolz 