SPRAWL

SPRAWL

since things are only getting worse
the landlord hereby leases to the tenant

for the land describes itself
its unique form projected
its desolate movement brandished

the observer the prospector
taking the value down
brushing up
scuffing it with the human touch
approaching it from the west
or maybe the south relentlessly
gawking possibly over its terraces
complaining about trees or lack there of
for this is the form land takes when we discard it
thistles and barb wire only traps for children
cliffs to fall from for dreamers

land in this form is only space
don’t touch the land unless your ready

formless playground
now and then a good frolic in bright meadows

the wind whisperers only to ride upon your collar
the trees built only to shade your lover
don’t drive in the blight to deeply
remain unsympathetic
turn the soil carefully andbare the brunt that is needed
since things are only getting worse