Hope all is well in the city of the ‘Wild Onion’. I was actually born in Hinsdale. A little over four decades ago.

Here is a piece of rabble for you rousers!

Waampum

American dollars spread thin
Like cold jam on stale bread
Between logs and people
Black as pitch on Indian kayaks

From B to W
And back to the Tex-arab-i-cans
Holy from recognition
Green and black

Spilling like water
In rivulets and streams
On deserts here and there
Seeping into the cracks
Juicing the mossy clingers
Blue then red then black

Still we spin, and stash, and hope
As it soaks up the Sun
On liver-spotted flesh
Losers and flowers
Wave on the breeze
Tell it to the wind
Gold, red, white and blue, and black

Final Edit – 9-23-2011

POWER TO THE PEACEFUL!!!