Spectral Line

Night sits up in the hollows

As the ridges roll back from the sun,

Beautiful how beautiful beautiful ––

Comments on blooming surfaces,

Sentiment sitting up as well

Before intellect, like a cold wind in my ear,

Reminds me where I'm standing,

On an interstate natural gas pipeline

Freshly 'hogged by hirelings

Of the world's most powerful industry,

Built for war, maintained for profit,

And me just a dreamer down the road,

Looking for a pretty picture,

Feeling the buzz under my bootsoles

Of 600 million cubic feet per day

That shakes me more each sunset.

circa 1943