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Driving West in 1970

By Robert Bly b. 1926 Robert Bly

My dear children, do you remember the morning

When we climbed into the old Plymouth

And drove west straight toward the Pacific?

We were all the people there were.

We followed Dylan's songs all the way west.

It was Seventy; the war was over, almost;

And we were driving to the sea.

We had closed the farm, tucked in

The flap, and were eating the honey

Of distance and the word "there."

Oh whee, we're gonna fly

Down into the easy chair. We sang that

Over and over. That's what the early

Seventies were like. We weren't afraid.

And a hole had opened in the world.

We laughed at Las Vegas.

There was enough gaiety

For all of us, and ahead of us was

The ocean. Tomorrow's

The day my bride's gonna come.

And the war was over, almost.

Source: Poetry (April 1999).

Biography

Since the 1960s, Robert Bly has written poetry that is nonacademic, based in the natural world, the visionary, and the realm of the irrational. As a poet, editor and translator, Bly has profoundly affected American verse, introducing many unknown European and South American poets to new readers. In addition to his poetic endeavors, he has gained attention for his theories on the roots of social problems, and his efforts to help . . .

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