Back to Woodstock, a poem

Back to Woodstock
by mike marcellino

Reaching out
to touch you,
sun’s rising.
Reaching out
to touch you,
sun’s rising.

Reaching out
to touch you
shampoo in my eyes, burning
cloudy.

Reaching out
to touch you.
Morning
in Ohio.

Requesting
Richie Havens
‘Freedom’
Forty years
back to Woodstock.
Forty years
back to Woodstock.

First call
a girl from Arkansas.
Old wounds
break open
releasing
a streak of blood
down to my toes.

Reaching out
to touch you,
sun’s rising
back to Woodstock.

Reaching out
to touch you,
sun’s rising.
back to Woodstock.


Back to Woodstock, copyright mike marcellino 2009