For Yacob

by David Miller

Yacob, let's you and I walk down to the train station
And catch a ride to tomorrow, or yesterday,
Maybe we can find a lost hobo in South Dakota,
Buried in 7 feet of water below the trestle,
Rusted pocket watch still dangling by its silver chain,

Or maybe discover what was lost in all those
Vodka years. We can ride the rails to Topeka
Or somewhere in Vermont. If we get stuck hoofing it,
Maybe Sherman Alexie's Indian will give us a ride
And we can pretend we're the toughest Indians in the world.

Yacob, I worry you're unhappy and feel stuck here
In this rainy coffin of a city. I can see unrest in your
Crumpled shirt and your stride each morning as we walk
Together to the two-bit diner for eggs and conversation.
How does Montana sound to you, with its wide girth

Of night sky? You insist you're happy in Portland,
But I want to see you unshaved in a boxcar heading
East, eating beans out of a tin can along side of me
And hear you recite Li Po with your eyes closed
Beneath the clustered stars of the prairie.

Yacob, my brother, your skin is pale from the dim
Light of your cluttered apartment. Why shouldn't
We stuff bread crusts and government cheese into
Our trouser pockets, then head out for someplace else,
Any place where there are still virgin forests of poetry?



David Miller has been writing poetry for more than 25 years. His work has most recently appeared in the anthology, Poets Open Forum @ The Little Professor Book Company in Fort Wayne, Volume II (available through Little Professor Book Company) and in his chapbook, Scrapbook Memories published in 2000 by Harvest Art Press.
David is the founder of Harvest Art Productions which produces poetry related events around the Portland, Oregon metropolitan area, publishes the e-zine harvest-art.com, and operates a fledgling small press - Harvest Art Press. David is the Editor of both harvest-art.com and Harvest Art Press. In July and August of 2000, David toured the U.S. for five weeks, reading his poetry in coffee shops and bookstores. Check out his ezine:HARVEST ART