The Motorcyclist's Song: (In Mexico City)
There is every evidence of an increasing interest in ATLANTIC poetry. As an incentive for writers yet unestablished, twice a year we set aside a number of pages in the ATLANTIC to be devoted to the work of young poets.
BY DEWITT BELL
That blacksnake across the furrows
of America
north, that sweet road,
where the cycle breathes
all the far-off lights,
and the sun glints in the gaunt corn,
Ohio.
of America
north, that sweet road,
where the cycle breathes
all the far-off lights,
and the sun glints in the gaunt corn,
Ohio.
That patient necklace North,
where streetlights crowd
the midnight streets,
and the hick-towns bob
like beads,
all on the same black thread.
where streetlights crowd
the midnight streets,
and the hick-towns bob
like beads,
all on the same black thread.
Guitar-string of a road!
sing me Wurlitzer cafés
fluorescent even at dawn.
sing me Wurlitzer cafés
fluorescent even at dawn.
(Ah! North, sweet necklace,
spin me soon,
where the lighthouses scribe
the sea —
my love counts the stars
with her green eyes,
and wants no other but me.)
spin me soon,
where the lighthouses scribe
the sea —
my love counts the stars
with her green eyes,
and wants no other but me.)