When I go for my run it is art that I do—into the
prairie!
There may be a yellow barn on the route—let us name it
transcendence.
I hear the sound of earth coming up through the leaves—all
upon the prairie!
The mind runs along, full of misconduct—inescapable desire
for censure.
He thought she was hot he told me, and he liked her
tattoos—unexpected desire for censure!
There are clouds that pursue, and pursue, and pursue—high
above the surfeit of prairie.
Striving to memorize the initial flash of reminding—pain is
very accurate!
She laughed but did not laugh, she wrote me—I too used to eat
less.
What good to speak now to love’s endlessness—like litter over
the prairie.
Grass may hide devastations from view—how extensive the look
of the prairie!
My voice continues inside me, both small and yet serious—it
embodies an incident.
