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letra de ode to a highway flower - jonah vermilya

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in rumor night i fell awake
aboard a bus northbound
traversing california mountain town stops
vineyard poems of lost babes
and the wrath of its dust soil
now anyways
hundreds of magnificent miles
only broken by buddha mountains
though it would have went on forever
and indeed it does in rainbow glory
in unfettered freedom
how lonely america is truly
it’s roads so great they manifest their own children
and clans and beggars and sages
through which access is but syllables, a glance, or grope
and what loneliness it creates in me
in mexico california valley town stops
dust bowl salinas, king city, and soledad
mexican mothers and europеan explorers from wessling or oslo
rеflecting confused, ambient smiles —
though i know they are lonely too
afro curls and asian glances in rows
front of battered, splendid rucksack children
of the road
with brown skin of the sun
and water from evaporated farm fields
dry and tested
and angelic in their objection
oil rig towns cutting up rolling hills
the great machinery of the american beast
in hash marks and vitality and sorrow
oh, sorrow!
oh, what great sorrow among the souls d-mned
on this feverish delightful humming bus
moving naked through this land
and as tribute asks we provide the same
so we all ride with gypsy passion moving styles
great and legendary orgies
among the rows of plaid, laden seats
sharing with each other open legs and souls
curved hips and taut chests
cum and theories of the mind
of love, religion, experience
and now used to the sight of our nakedness fall quiet
resigning once again to our seats
women pregnant with the fullness of life already
and men drained of lifeness
and women dried from reality
and men shrunk with the breadth of understanding
more towns to pass, aptos and ben lomond, davenport, felton
still naked but now just dreaming
under starry-grained depot sky
of future past l!cks of time and love
oh, love
oh, love, i finally know you are here under these vast, knowing, and timeless skies
i get off to depart
find my clothes in my bag
accept the waves and kisses and
sideways mad-eyed picasso looks
of these lovers
knowing full well our secret in time
in time
the loneliness and intimacy
on screaming and placid road

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