The forest appears tranquil.
A sunbeam through the pollen dust
The only straightness in this vegetable world.
I wrote a book
And saved it on a disk
A megabyte was all it took
All on one floppy disk
Sunrise in the flickering city.
Snaring streets tie windy knots in time.
Rhythmic neon emblems,
Those country dawns of childhood!
The smell of them!
A fresh new morning!
A great chorus of birdsong
It turns out that mice sing songs
As rich and varied as birdsongs.
They can even sing two notes at once
To make strange sounds and transitions.
Hooks in my head.
Insistent scrap of song.
I, who have seen Times Square,
Rivers of light, red and white,
On twelve lane superhighways,
The glitter of nightside earth from seven miles high,
No go the low go
Right what you no!
No war for a gas tank!