Poem by William Karnowski

Leaning

when riding a harley

you are in fact no freer

than a walking man

it just feels that it is true

there is no room

for kitchen sinks and libraries

of other peoples knowledge

and their guesses of knowledge

nor their pretenses of knowledge

one is left with motion

and wind and wandering

with no agenda for a day

there remains only friendship

flights of fancy

hedonistic joy

all in all

the physical expression of poetry

the instinctive leaning of a turn

and putting a foot down to stop

and with a dab of the toe

a flick of a wrist

to disappear into ones own sunset

William J. Karnowski

author of: Pushing the Chain, Painting the Train, Catching the Rain, Hardtails and Highways, and The Hills of Laclede.