Paper thin top soil
Cracks seep through
Red dirt.
Bloodless gashes
Simmering summer soil
Baked turf.
Rolled gold haze
Aches as the
Country stretches its skin-
Near breaks
******* teeth
******* itches
Red earth fit-
              To burst in a
Dark cloud of dust,
Choking soft as to soak
The moisture fresh
From your lungs.

Blinding blue sky
Set for worship
On a tall horizon
Too far, too high
For common souls-
                  To float on a      
Breath of sweet dry air,
Eternal journey to sunset
Small piece of a dream
To chase a grey cloud
From sky to west.

Where subterranean
Creeks used to slip by
Rise in a ***** of land
Where water once carved
                          Its roam
Now the winds sweep
All traces away
Back toward the sea,
And fair beyond
The aching dry eyes
Of the sons of
This red earth,
A mist lies awake
And prays for rain.

Sky, oh won't you cry
And sing a song of sadness
Rain and run the risk.

Our winter is brown grass
like the great plains,
the band with ice cold wind
for a lead singer

Our winter is a
barren land of detail,
Unlike the typical purity
of yours.

a cigarette on his dry lips,
he is cold, he grips
onto the lit cigarette,
imagining a person's
neck,
and he is determined
to break it.