Ride 3 hour thru tunnels past all American Industry,
Bayone preparing for World War II, tanks, gas fields, soda
factories, diners, locomotive roundhouse fortress – into piney
woods New Jersey Indians – calm towns – long roads thru sandy tree fields –
Bridges by deerless creeks, old wampum loading the streambed – down there in a tomahawk or Pocahontas bone – and a million old ladies voting for Roosevelt in brown small houses, roads off the Madness highway –
perhaps a hawk in a tree, or a hermit looking for an owl-filled branch –
All the time arguing – afraid of strangers in the forward double seat, snoring regardless – what bus ride they snore on now?
From Kaddish (For Naomi Ginsberg 1894 – 1956) by Allen Ginsberg
Remember that Ginsberg was writing about a time when he was 12 years old, taking a bus from Paterson to the mental institution to visit his bipolar mom, Naomi.