so country at heart
so backwoods downhome
country
so sunstreaked
burnished gold tan
so hypnotized by sunsets across cemeteries
ritualistic leaf burnings across neighborhood ditches
so lulled by the carrying on
of mutt dogs, crickets and ancient truck engines
struck profoundly by dirty boots and hard cowboy stares
wrapped eternally in white sheets on the line
shucking garden corn, and damp paths that run secrets thru the woods
so deadgum country
unable to escape into chicd-up, slimmed-down
stream-lined, chrome-finished sky-line scraped sky.
cut off all my wheatfield hair
piled like ashes on the alter to modern woman
and wat do u have
a harvest, baled and stacked
impatiently urging the country summer back home.
mar.20.05
No comments:
Post a Comment