I tell you daily I am a dandelion
As I leaf thru photos
Of our Mexican excursion, tabouli
In a sack is how we do it on the road
All poems gone to seed
Tall above grandma's uncut grass
I gather an unpublished bouquet of sights &
Blow the starfilled afro across an iota of iowa
Can you imagine a kiowa weeding
Medicinal root treasure, wind prescribing we nap a bit
As bulgar softens in civilization icebox
Bleak grandeur of gone monte alban
At heyday more populous than cesspools we waddled
Daily digressing preferably from scumdinavia to savannah via wildlife channel,
Dehorned rhinos roam less lusted over by poachers "sporting" game
Dispossessed tribes lay bodily claim
To farmlands sold to whites who take hanni out like a dangerous flower
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