Dirt drifts in the wind
piling up like like poems
waiting for rain
to become glorious mud
Mud in your eye
the jealous eye of the beholder
resting in splendid repose
an eyestalk tall
extruding meters from the ground
where AI may see all that can be
Myriad creatures scurry and worry
fretfully finding crumbs
adequate for never-when
never known
particles of dust
in the wind to begin
Clinging to wheels mud is the deal
it shapes mysterious norms
conforms all blings to ring tone echoes
raps that whir
howling through sagebrush
cowboy poetry ranched
punching cattle
Greenest tiny growth
grass emotes
everyplace like an ocean
rearranging tan, sallow yellow bricks of colors
closest things to freeze dried dead
past punchers placed patterns
breaking trails for electronic fences
mending meaningless dividers for gold coins
To spend or not to spend
that is the question
weather it is colder hailing
or enduring outrageous rain
dirt doth show the snow
the way to flow
with freezes past
left to the summits of myths
Clods of time compacting past
warm flatness of high desert plains
with mountains able lost tectonic orogeny
well rounded to host remorseless dirt
electrostatic strong force brethren
coating fields with fixed sentient things
pretending rhymes with reasons
presence need be and become
tomorrow
with the will to outlast lush
verdant urges that overcomes senses
wherein politics rush
social piles of bones built
Nemissoolatakoos
overcome by the great spirit’s rivers
-Heraclitus never stepping in the same Universe
twice.
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