Tidbit Poem by Stan Petrovich

The nights were afire
In my salad days-
I found what I was after,
Counting the ways.

The pale green flesh
I consumed made me One
With a glorified Nature;
The Native Americans & I
Fought no more forever.
The Little Big Horn
Is a dried-up gulch
Nowadays.

Let us not divide
Our rights & plights.
Let us not eat at McDonalds.
Let us not
Fall into diabetes' lot,
But sweat our bodies
Into submission.

Born into every body is
Death; it is not behavior.
I & they must respect
The dying, even as they waver.
Go to a Hopi plateau
And look out from there
And into forever.