All I ever wanted to do was to go home
So
here’s my heart with its odd cock-eyed
Dissatisfaction
the blood of the tale-teller
Cruel
and unruly and dripping on the table
Like
a night rain but slower and staunched
Once
more through the green air you
Promised
would never come here to this
Place
we call an upside-down language
This
lopsided discourse O we remember
Endless
fields of Indiana corn and white
Windmills
more recently so stunningly there
Where
we never knew such things could grow
Where
we never expected the current of sexes
Adrift
in all that razor sharp leafy green
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