Intraday

A poem by Gary Snyder from Turtle Island

WHY LOG TRUCK DRIVERS RISE EARLIER THAN STUDENTS OF ZEN

In the high seat, before dark,

Polished hubs gleam

And the shiny disel stack

Warms and flutters

Up the Tyler Road grade

To the logging on Poorman creek.

Thirty miles of dust.

Image

There is no other life.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s