We here at CSP (okay, I mean me) usually look down our noses at poetry. I guess that's better than looking up them. We (me) think it's usually pretentious, cryptic, schmaltzy crap. Well, we're (I'm) right, and the following poem is no exception. It's based on Bob Dylan's "Song to Woody" (meaning Woody Guthrie), the melody of which was based on Guthrie's "1913 Massacre." But what do I know, I got that shit off of Wikipedia, and frankly, you just can't trust those fuckers.

So, with no further ado, here's my hard-on for Bob Dylan:

Written by Chad Schnaible in the Pacific Design Center in a room with no windows in West Hollywood on the 15th day of December, 2006, for Bob Dylan.

***

I'm out here a million miles from home
walkin' a road too many have gone down
I'm searchin' your world of people & scenes
your jugglers & clowns & vandals & queens

cowboy beatnik poet
rebel lover revolutionary
agony voice
crook smirk

hey, hey, Bob Dylan, I wrote you a song
or a crazy poem that ain't too long
seems I'm sick & I'm weary, I'm tired & I'm torn
listenin' to your stuff makes me feel hardly born

scholar songwriter folksinger
sophisticate hillbilly rocknrollstar
houndog visionary
whirlwind apothecary

hey, Bob Dylan, but I know that you know
this crap I'm writin' and a-many times more
I'm writin' & bleedin' but I can't bleed enough
'cause not many men have wrote like you done

self-construct enigma jester
bojangles streetprophet icon
midwesterner newyorker
teacher friend

here's to Woody & Ginsberg & ol' Rimbaud, too
the jokers & thieves & the superhuman crew
napoleons in rags, skeleton keys in the rain
blue-eyed sons & the visions that remain

metropolitan rube freewheeler
counselor provider sage
peasant prince
weaver vagabond

I'm a-leavin' tomorrow but it's prob'ly today
somewhere stuck down in the gutter some day
one last thing that I'd want to do
is to say I wrote somethin' half as good as you