THE CROWN OF CREATION
We bounce in the backs of pickup trucks
dirt road varnished by heat from the tires
skeletons snore in the earth as we trundle by
we relax, let our hair fly, shirt tails flap
someone gets a nosebleed
we put our hearts back into the soil
prairie dogs and rattlers bask
in the red glory of another day’s passing;
we have not been this alive for a while.
On the banks of the muddy Missouri
our caravan coasts into silence;
a prayer is delivered on the wind, it tells us
“Life is different here;
we let mouth and nose decide
what the ears shall see.”
In a land with no plan, with no...
