This blog was initially launched as a resource for Ron Mohring's Working Class Literature course. New poems are posted irregularly. All are welcome to share and comment on poems by and about work and the working classes. To suggest a poem for inclusion or a book for the recommended reading list, please email ron dot mohring at gmail dot com; put Working Class Poems in your subject line. Thanks.
Showing posts with label tim poland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tim poland. Show all posts
8.03.2009
7.12.2009
Road Sign
this is how we say hello, one index finger
raised from the steering wheel as we pass
on these narrow roads tight enough to graze
each other’s fenders if we’re not vigilant
our other fingers stay furled to the wheel
to guide us around the road-kill curves,
the single finger released to mark the instant
of our common crawl over shared ground
this one finger the only voice we can afford,
but ample speech for the moment, briefly
perpendicular, as if we are checking wind
direction in the truck cab, pointing out the
shortest route to paradise, or tallying the
count—of fish caught on a bad day, of deer
taken during muzzleloader season, of the
chance we yet have to get it right
:: Tim Poland, in Stickman Review (6:1)
raised from the steering wheel as we pass
on these narrow roads tight enough to graze
each other’s fenders if we’re not vigilant
our other fingers stay furled to the wheel
to guide us around the road-kill curves,
the single finger released to mark the instant
of our common crawl over shared ground
this one finger the only voice we can afford,
but ample speech for the moment, briefly
perpendicular, as if we are checking wind
direction in the truck cab, pointing out the
shortest route to paradise, or tallying the
count—of fish caught on a bad day, of deer
taken during muzzleloader season, of the
chance we yet have to get it right
:: Tim Poland, in Stickman Review (6:1)
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