May 2012
The word 'Montana' has a taste to it.
It is a being, it really is.
There is a spirit in those fields.
And you won't know it!
You won't! Know!
YOU CAN'T SEE
how much it has gripped you,
how firmly it has your heart until you are long gone.
Then you miss it. I miss it, friend, like a distant love.
It is like a massive pylon with bright red ribbon,
INCARNADINE
ribbon wrapped around your wrists.
No matter where you go you will always be connected.
It will always call your name, like a siren
in the seas calling a sailor home
BEFORE
cursing him and
devouring him forever.
Like the earth is to the moon,
distant and gripping,
Montana is my anchor.
It is a being, it really is.
There is a spirit in those fields.
And you won't know it!
You won't! Know!
YOU CAN'T SEE
how much it has gripped you,
how firmly it has your heart until you are long gone.
Then you miss it. I miss it, friend, like a distant love.
It is like a massive pylon with bright red ribbon,
INCARNADINE
ribbon wrapped around your wrists.
No matter where you go you will always be connected.
It will always call your name, like a siren
in the seas calling a sailor home
BEFORE
cursing him and
devouring him forever.
Like the earth is to the moon,
distant and gripping,
Montana is my anchor.
I miss home.
