Kansas

This land.
It suits me,
gloves my hands in dirt(soil,
earth, loam, terra firma)
shoes my feet ,
roots them,
entangles them in a weave
of Timothy, buffalo, blue stem,
bottlebrush,, and foxtail millet:
a living body suit.

I grow upon the horizon.
The wind tosses the chaff.
Stalks of hair and I morph to the wind.
A machine, giant upon the hills.
Ancient energy for a 21st century time.

II

A garden
of wild onion,
earthy tastes
on a baking summer day.
Cactus hidden in buffalo grass,
snares the bare feet.
Sandburrs jab , bring blood to a child's foot.
Devil's claws hook and pin into denim bottoms and bobby socks.
Tumble weeds caught in barbs and fried on electric fences.
All created to keep me here
in mind, in soul, in imagination...


III
In this garden
Adam would have named the flower "sun"
and Eve would have reached for a wild plum.
Walking in that garden
there'd be no bushes
to hide behind;
just tumbles of weeds
blowing across the grass.
God would call upon the wind
to sweep the hidden
horizon
to unearth
fleeing man and woman...

The snake would rattle with his lies,
and the woman would crush his head
against a rock.
A rock that would stand
never fall,
a limestone wedge planted in the earth.

never fail..

to be continued....