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he's got that
coal mine Christmas
late October stare...
sleeping in an abandoned boxcar
down by the tracks...
small pine branch fire,
eyes scour the road;
coffee, a few boiled potatoes,
a smoke as the sun goes down....
a returning vet....
with no place to go!
oil wars, bombs light the sky,
dead bodies walk in his dreams...
disillusioned, disembodied,
homeless, in America!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem