Bent and Beat

bone rattling and rain soaked dogs
gleaming in the twilight under the post office flag
blind grandmother porch song beneath a harvest moon
mustang lean and mother's loamy flesh
caked underneath father's dirty fingernails
an auctioneers gavel stalks grandfather's dreams
with the seed of debt stitched upon their brows
the town circles around them

the scenery only changes from soy to corn
and back again
another endless circle

story book incense, milwaukee gutter spill, and some girls from easyville
jubilant and lonesome
and more than a little ignorant
of what a whole life is
indignation is a ghost
hypocrisy is an uneasy ally
middle town adventures in a small age
(still)
there are somethings we never outgrow
or is it that our cage is too narrow to allow us?
maker's glove box mark mutes the need for an answer.

tomorrow will be sunday
god and the corn will be forgotten
drunken dreams in barnyard shadows
woken by a blind dog barking at the september wind
heaven and voids swallowed and forgotten with burnt black coffee
dinner for breakfast
today
tomorrow
yesterday
this is home