Dixie, my Dixie. Now.
the Soldiers never footed
Along your swampy path.
cauterized footpath, cleaned up
for eighty-five percent
of the population
YOU scare cyclists and
Along your swampy path
I find skid marks, plastic bits
broken mirrors introducing
your asphalt to
new strip mall frenzies.
They shall soon be closed.
Dixie, my Dixie, Claim
back your earth, Call the trees
home. and Provide the crickets a bedded rest
No comments:
Post a Comment