What a pleasure to find an old rough draft of a poem on an old flash drive.  I was looking for a document when I found this, simply titled: “Work on this poem.”

So I will work on this poem.  I’m not sure about the rhetorical questions or who the “you” in the poem is, but I like a bit of mystery.

It starts like this…

Mud-crusted rags
wrap blistered feet.
Earthbound, I walk
beneath topsoil.
How would I drive?

Bridges stop around curves,
hidden in the fog or dust
a glimpse of surprised faces
before plunging
into the wide river of our poetry.
Where could I drive?

Then it goes on, but I won’t post more since I want to revise and rework to submit.

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Thanks for reading.