Smog

We have too much golden straw.
We wouldn’t need it for our cows
And would burn it blue into fog.

We would bring all the wheat up
From black earth’s furrowed fields.
Ox made a desire’s earth wounds.

The ox closed listless eyes to flies
And never once thought of cows,
A job left to the season’s big bull.

The earth bled and gave us wheat.
Cows needed no straw nor a roof.
So we burn and send it into fog.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s