every bridge that collapses is an abutment
of hands and elbows tumbling  over

every hurried step urgently taken out of the office pasture,
is from a cow readied, conditioned and willing to get its **** pulled for the milking

every time I see them depart it saturates the pastoral painting
begun during my youth, the base for the subsequent layers never dries

the picturesque manifest destiny  propaganda of the early 1800's
with "California " spelled on it.  
sit next to the paper with a bounty for put on native heads
over a poster of the runaway slave


"the pursuit of happiness",  that is the name of my painting
but the underpaiting never dries

so much turpentine but it seems most people never arrive there, laboring at drugstore or at a big warehouse si

never getting to use the linseed oil  

how savory some of us must taste
I weep at this thought
what is there not to weep for
if life is still sold
you and I headed like cattle



how it is too easy