The bums and the heroes
of revolution
asleep
As drawn to the cosmos
a light
travels deep
He asked for no quarter
playing outside
the game
His legion in shadows
he’d never
explain
Each song once it’s sung
his interest
foregone
To blind repetition
he couldn’t
belong
The critics in reference
enshrining
his fame
As the midwestern
prairie wind
—calls out his name

(Ode To Bob Dylan: November, 2023)