Land That I Love

Open air salt mine surrounded by trees,
broken skin broken heart redwood dog pen,
I tell you my secret wish:
if you burn, burn clean;
if you flood, flood red;
if you blow sun-high may you be
wiped free of old stains.

Blistered, bruised vending machine jail
overrun with self-guarding inmates,
I sing you my hidden prayer:
if you be hellbound, may you hellhound loud;
if you speak ironbound words,
may they scar you dark and long,
thread you with traces of forgotten railroads.

Oil pan, catch basin, heart butcher to the world,
split window fastback hearse, mistaken, glorious,
I offer you a finback wish:

may somehow you go leaping
through hardening seas
toward the last places left with soft water;
may you somehow turn to ice
and jungle and replacement air;
somehow, may you find safety,
dive deep, stay submerged, 
and learn to thrive in the absence of light.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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