Poem for Urbana City Council Meeting 11 March 2002

I think that I will never see
A poem lovely as the tree
Whose branches once cast shade on me
Who's now a stump. And wood debris


I think that I will never find
A sound as ugly as the whine
That woke me up at five past nine
(The time the saws began to grind)


If I could wish upon a star
I'd wish the sawdust off my car
If instead I lived in heaven
I would sleep until eleven


[Author's Excuse: Scholars agree that the poetic techniques employed here are strictly unacceptable. Nevertheless, I maintain that those qualities which may render this work inappropriate to publish are precisely those that will make these lines stick in the heads of the council members until, out of desperation, they pass a resolution outlawing defoliation. Or verse.]