Friday, January 01, 2010
Longing for grassland
Barren desert ridge is the old cracked plaster at which I stare
Lying face-up bed to ceiling
Imaging the surface as an arid wind-swept plain that is devoid of all
But most hearty vegetation:
Gray-green sagebrush perhaps
Sap-sweating juniper like grumpy old men
Stingily yield their hard sour little berries
Which no one would eat;
Or maybe even that is too much...
A plain of grass cropped close by equine heirs wild and wise and free
Of those mad conquistadores
With each lone oak the king of a domain from which he might build
His own deciduous kingdom
Danger in such a place
Needs must nakedly approach with fangs bared
Hunger-driven as might invading lion pride
Rush on with roaring vanguard;
Out of just a crack in the ceiling;
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