the world is a web of roads, my friend
that twists on its tails that never end
but there’s only one road, by the stars that shine
that never turns back - that’s the road of time
when i was young i often passed
a temple of steel beside a tower of glass
where a banker iwith his briefcase and a newsboy with his stack
stood talking together - forth and back
the banker talked slow, and the newsboy talked fast
but they both grew silent as i passed
and the burning words in their spinning brains
rode through the cosmos like silver trains
through crystal frances and emerald spains
down roaring amazons and bounding mains
across ruby arabicas and amethyst bahrains
to an all night diner in the kansas rain
where daisy jones and mac high collar
buy two streak dinners with a silver dollar
as maisie - what else would she be named?
leans on the counter and feels ashamed
in a thousand years the wind will blow
from the china sea to mexico
rain and snow will cover the earth
and the same old world to itself will give birth
temples and palaces will be be gone
monkeys will laugh and tigers yawn
rivers will flow and dragon webs spin
as poets take to the roads again
