Tidbit
The nights were afire
In my salad days-
I found what I was after,
Counting the ways.
The pale green flesh
I consumed made me One
With a glorified Nature;
The Native Americans & I
Fought no more forever.
The Little Big Horn
Is a dried-up gulch
Nowadays.
Let us not divide
Our rights & plights.
Let us not eat at McDonalds.
Let us not
Fall into diabetes' lot,
But sweat our bodies
Into submission.
Born into every body is
Death; it is not behavior.
I & they must respect
The dying, even as they waver.
Go to a Hopi plateau
And look out from there
And into forever.
poem by Stan Petrovich
Added by Poetry Lover
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