John Henry Poet

Word-pounding line-driver,
Racing against machines
And to show the teachers

Still strolling around town
Or hailing student-drawn
Carriages for short lifts,

Dignified conveyance,
Rides rented from the rich,
It’s not just the future

That’s about quantities
First, there are quantities
In the present, always

There’s quantity over
Quality, not only
Among the desperate

And the capitalists,
But equally among
The quality-obsessed.

He sweats. He wants to rest.
The machines are ahead,
And the teachers don’t see

Him for what he’s doing
At all, not the least bit.
He’s dying. He can’t quit.