Poem for Ronald Johnson

[Tossed] off all the champagne punch on
Gough St., come then past the last
high-on stretch dark the eyes
carry out of the street, high, turned-
 
on, down, almost crossed eyed
to this page, long prairie turned
white out of the snow and
winter come down on, the grass
 
underneath, as this texture, page
underneath, turns the nib
nap of, across.  I have walked
on off then in the long grass
 
out of the memory of my yard
into the pasture skirts, coats
the highway SW toward Pawnee
Station, trains long stand in
 
& the stations of the churches of
plains go on toward
only the sun
finally to know
to worship
in these endlessnesses
 
 
— 30 Jan 65 S.F. [San Francisco, CA]

Original notebook draft of poem (click here to enlarge).