While herself is ruby slippered in pomegranate seeds in the dark beneath the
who is gardening in the heartland? A poet I knew outside Allegory
woke to find the icy night still red-sore at the horizon mouth,
then lay back on a pillow purple from the brown-hearted grapes of his hair.
Even in summer the people herd large roses into the been of childhood.
And the corn trembles on its little ankles, like Chihuahuas.
Americans, do you want me to go on?
Yes, tell us more about the heartland.
At times, the rain-struck scalp of the prairies smokes again in the hand of the
But the wide rivers are so fine no one crosses them:
they unroll like sheets of Reynolds Wrap before it's slathered with apple crumb
The good folk camp on the banks like trees and watch the shining republic of desire roll by.
Tell us more.
Today, a deputy caught two boys drag racing on riding mowers down Main St.
in Ellston, Iowa,
whereas in Tegucigalpa the dog-boys sniff shoe glue to survive the cold nights and no one stops
them, in their seed time.