For Saundra

I wanted to write a poem that rhymes but revolution doesn't lend itself to be-bopping then my neighbor who thinks i hate asked - do you ever write tree poems - i like trees so i thought i'll write a beautiful green tree poem peeked from my window to check the image noticed that the school yard was covered with asphalt no green - no trees grow in manhattan then, well, i thought the sky i'll do a big blue sky poem but all the clouds have winged low since no-Dick was elected so i thought again and it occurred to me maybe i shouldn't write at all but clean my gun and check my kerosene supply perhaps these are not poetic times at all