I was on the KWFM last night, and I had a very good time.
I like the idea of having poems and records going together.
And what I was talking about last night
was, again, something on this traveling theme.
When I first--
I was a student out here for three years.
And my last semester, I was a TA,
and I used to come to school on a motorcycle.
Did a lot of motorcycling.
This is a sort of a motorcycle breakdown poem.
It's called "Time to Kill," and it's an obvious pun.
It's written in five [? things ?],,
but I like to dispense with the numbers.
"Looking for someone to take me on,
I walk slow as the growing agave, the Yucca blades,
and morning shadows, cutting the highway that
runs through a swelter of sand.
At midday near the border, Nogales whores
turn up a dirt road, hugged by two-storied bars,
wearing trinkets of their conquistadors.
By the San Javier mission, vesper bells call the Papagos
from the charity gardens.
Hired hands and ignorance, they camouflage missile sites
for sack.
Unmuted tires, the cars curve drunkenly down the road
while pastels of sunset carouse.
At home, a Sabbath candle is burning."