THE WILLOW TREE BAR
Drills chatter full of mud and compressed air
all across the globe,
low-ceilinged bars, we hear the same new songs
All the new songs.
In the working bars of the world.
After you done drive Cat. After the truck
front legs folded first
under the warm oil pipeline
set four feet off the ground —
On the wood floor, glass in hand,
laugh and cuss with
somebody else's wife.
Texans. Hawaiians, Eskimos,
Filipinos, Workers, always
on the edge of a brawl —
In the bars of the world.
Hearing those same new songs
Naples, Galveston, Darwin, Fairbanks,
White or brown,
Drinking it down,
of the work
of wrecking the world.
G A R Y S N Y D E R
Born in San Francisco in 1930 and after travels, work and life
around the world, Snyder to this day lives a few hours drive
east of San Francisco in the Sierra Nevada foothills.