“Untitled,” New Era, May 1982, 51


    Like an empty bucket,

    Blistered by the heat,

    I catch the gentle rain

    And slowly fill.

    I see all the thirsty people

    In this hollowed out world

    And call to them like a

    Bucket full of water,

    To drink—

    To live—

    To look to the sky for rain,

    And never thirst again.