I'm tired of poets and the sea.
What's with these people to need
such a big wet to get the juices pulsing?
Like they can't see it in that beer can
rattling down the curb.
They should come to Milwaukee and gaze
upon the ale lite waters
Where we need to work for our awe
and intimations don't come easy.

And let's see them carp about
stasis and change and significance
That escapes their limits
Down here among the bratwursts and
Packers where it counts,
In the heart land,
Amber waves of grain,
Traffic jammed shopping malls,
Rust bucket cheese heads,
Immensities on sale,
Billowing.