midwest voodoo



sky like bison
toward disappear wilder
on worlds fat lip
not so much my mind
touched gold & blue & vast
constant
flux of wind to no wind
am i always
ice when melting
all can be chopped
to borderline extinction

i drive faster
less sober
further things grow
apart
between potter/dix back land
middle of panhandled nothing

& tall rain miles away
roaming stampede of whitewash
never fills up
your father's father's well

who can stay
when there is no break
& the howling is mistaken
for wanton coyotes
nipping at your heels
bc there are no more
bison to kill