Who so
concussed in
absentia as this
great wide scrubbrush bush
waving
under an equally undulant sun
as the movements
of the tumbleweeds
or dust rescind, take back
the movement from the meaning.
The lactic dross of dustfields
crosst, frontier homes strapped
together with no loss of sweat
of reams of splintery
slackwood beams and planks and
torn back down again and again
as haphazardly reconcstructed and
again deconcstructed and again.
Jangle and hoop of the no
wife in tow and the no children
on the popping sloop piled
high with the house that moves
and the nights too without them
and the night too.
