American Sketches

CROSSING KANSAS BY TRAIN

The telephone poles

Have been holding their

Arms out

A long time now

To birds

That will not

Settle there

But pass with

Strange cawings

Westward to

Where dark trees

Gather about a

Water hole this

Is Kansas the

Mountains start here

Just behind

The closed eyes

Of a farmer’s

Sons asleep

In their work clothes

POEM TO BE READ AT 3 A.M.

Excepting the diner

On the outskirts

The town of Ladora

At 3 A.M.

Was dark but

For my headlights

And up in

One second-story room

A single light

Where someone

Was sick or

Perhaps reading

As I drove past

At seventy

Not thinking

This poem

Is for whoever

Had the light on