pick corn all day
wear my hands raw
on cotton bolls
redden my neck raw
in the hotness
milk Bessie,
fatten up the golden calf,
or catch the gold of sunsets
the shine of moonshines glistening
or writhe this poem of us,
in a field in spring
me spinning around you
you drinking me in
in this fair field tonight,
me love.

my eyes and saw black as white all grey
            clean as how I felt not how
much I tithed Sunday,
         rich as the hungry sharing their last bites
strong as the weakest among us, the police
                  as human like us.
Victims as examples of what not to be.
Love, as something rare, to share,
   with those I see as enemies more,
than those who know I care,
               grey as the horizon is,    before a beautiful
sun arising, money a commodity,
     humans as beings, truth as gold, love bold standing
above all, there on the altar, I married.