Her hills rise and fall with her troubled breath -
this wild land of mine -
And in the turbulence of blue and gray,
her chaotic sky
twists
tangles
becomes.
The lot at the end of my block
has become feral and funereal.
The procession of vehicles headed
by hummers was a swift burial,
auto dealership asphalt broken to sod,
the unmarked grave of main street
always grew its own grass.