Chris Walsh (chris_walsh) wrote,
Chris Walsh
chris_walsh

Voice Post: This time, a poem

VoicePost
410K 2:07
(no transcription available)


Scene: Desert Highway (3/25/04-4/14/04)

Diesel fumes
Belch their way
Across the lanes
Throughout the day
The air feels baked
Near this highway
Lined by the sage-
Brush that will stay
Like gnarled hands
Of corpses, flayed
And partly buried
In foul display –
And as the hum
Of traffic may
Not ever cease
Its constant bray
You’ll know no noise
That would betray
The fauna here
– On you, that weighs…
Does dust have life?
Perhaps, they say:
The dust devil’s dance
So much like play
In its swirl of heat
To make weeds sway
And flutter leaves
(Plus misplaced hay)
With tumbleweeds
Which can waylay
The unsuspecting
Cabriolet –
Surround the car!
Impede its way!
You’d think they think
To cause this fray
To happen here
And add delay
Through panicked swerves
‘Round tumbled strays,
These weeds that move
Across the lay
Of desert land
In disarray
Until they brake
On fences, gray
With long barbed wire
In endless sway
Dividing up
Per some survey
The desert floor
Based on who paid
For this wide square
Of café-au-lait-
And rust-toned rock
And, sometimes, clay
Marked with green signs
Which sometimes say
The names of towns
– These one-house dreys –
With no mapped names
To mark their stay
In corners, parched
Too far from bays
Whose water, rich,
Is kept away
From desert land
Dried and decayed.
The water comes
– Sometimes, some ways –
From man-made ditch
Or sky-borne spray
But to rely
On those wet rays
Of moisture here
– No. They won’t obey.
Tags: poetical, voice
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