Now, I'm going to finish up with a few quite recent poems.
This is another work poem.
It's dated 7/4/64, last date [INAUDIBLE]..
I was working in a ship coming around
from Yokohama to New York as a wiper,
and this is a poem of mine.
"Up at dawn, sweep the deck and empty garbage,
ship paint down below.
All my friends have children and are
getting old, at least enough to be a first mate or an engineer.
Now I know I'll never be a PhD.
Dumping oily buckets in the middle of the ocean,
swirls of dried paint drips light silver,
blue, and green down the outside,
full of oil rags, wet paint slosh, coils, marbled grease
and cream."