Once again Philip agreed to read his poetry. The Bagman Cometh I'm no longer young though my body is strong and the road still long gets longer Bagman throws his critical eye around him to diminish the granite growth of cities that enclose him the world is huge in multitudes of birds and men and women Homes keep growing in the Chinaman's eyes while the Mongolian horseman runs his horse to the edge of the blue sky The waves of grass open out over the land as a five ton diesel moves on a relentless path from one truck stop towards the endless point on the forever road Bagman wanders along cars flying by at high speeds the white mist like an Indian blanket surrounds him clinging to his clothes He could not have appeared more spiritual as his silhouette moves through the pale fog More alone he cannot be as even God might have had some slight difficulty seeing him Like a snake the descending sun rolls along the height of the mountains where Bagman is weary from the tiresome trail! he walks since morning he despairs of catching a ride to the next city so with his blankets he moves into the high grasses and lies down wrapped in his blankets the sweet musk of the undergrowth lulls him to sleep Then awake and waking he sees the distance to the next town like a carpet of gravel and dust trod underfoot while the sun turns to dusk and darkness swallows the Bagman nothing can be seen of his being except the sound of an echo of feet Bagman walks beneath a big fat moon through the ...
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