Once a year?
Even twice a year?
Maybe three or even four times...
From the coastal plains
And wet forests
To the hill country
I would head through Bastrop
And in the Woods there'd be deer-
Every drive
Having a longtime been in the North
I drove that way again
Either ignoring or forgetting-
And everything was burned up
Charring the memories-
Gas-oil for creative destruction
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem