Turnip Poem+And barefoot I arrive,+giddy on stupidity,+merry going ‘round this land+with the farmed intelligence of a turnip,+and I am glad for the world,+I am glad for the black dirt on my feet,+the black hair on my head,+black sumac leaves.+ Stay back, boy! Can’t you see+I am obliged to nobody+but the soil and the copper sun.+
