Elio Schneeman: a poem and a page

August
           for Elio Schneeman

Heat lightning grips
the treetops and hills
of the tarred horizon

A long drive's dry eyes
wired to the night
behind the ears

Any song blares

Fingers grip the wheel
as words mind

Accepting the thrusts
of the highway's
repetitious white knives

      —•—

And a Wikipedia page for Elio Schneeman on the tenth anniversary of his passing.