No Turning Back
In the earliest calm of March
his anthem was like a lark --
all sung out, the breeze
like a whisper without depth.
But he remembered the shout
of the sixties, the boisterous anarchy
of love and protest
whitewashed boarding houses (sic)
Digger slop and ear-blasting rock
On the road a magic
mushroom bus to Rainbow Commune
Oregon, but this too for naught
"Can't make it here," he spoke
while she stood dripping, heavy . . .
but commentless in Drain
3-11-96
Page 40 (Black Book: Light Heart)
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