Classic Poem

Young utopia of spring
greens,
hello,
light up the towers
of the Whisky King,
behold the mints
and comics of the season
as the tempers light our reason
with penumbra and with chroma

The Pollys in the Ienderloin
size up the town and vocalize
The wise guy plucks a banjo string
for Polly's Irish eyes.

Only the fathers of the state
have public welfare up their sleeves.

Big-hearted Dick obeys the law
and trots around in chevron weaves
with dividends from anchored markets,
picking his manner from the facts

of God, the flying American.