A long hair bearded man sits on a throne
taking a **** and reading poetry by Frost
and Auden and Elliot and Dylan Thomas.
He works as a janitor and lives frugal.
1956 and beats are howling for the truth.
2020 and a scream for the truth again.
I'm a long hair bearded man on a toilet
reading Howl and Kerouac, and Burroughs.
The next generation will whisper for truth.
Poets will bleed through the state's censors.