So happy I put my camera in their sewerage
I don't know where I would I have fallen
With eyes open.
On my own I could find a shot
In 10 soft minutes and take the rest of the day off.
It was that or die in a wild fire that freeform work ethic
Of easy fun stress-free that was necessary for
The ridiculously scary crazy dangerous mind-fuckery
The job turned out to be, with its streetlamp breaking stories
And the hydrogen car bomb, today's more cowbell
Anecdote included, duly noted.
And here I am
At another overhang of rainbow weather, pewter
Weighing down plum blooms and grazing green, another sunset
On deadline, where clouds hide only what they know.
The horses turn Arabian in these conditions.
The eucalyptus hangs like mourning palms.
The moving parts bit bridle spurs
Gallop time relentlessly across the skies.
A horse's curiosity is a positive thing
But that of horse owners as journalists
A thing to be strenuously avoided, as they lumber by in flannels and bandanna, cowgirl blue boots
Along the red sheds where kamikaze roosters
Challenge the photojo Subaru to a test duel
As red hawks perch like haiku on the impeccable wires
Watching for barn mice. They say it is a constant,
The media now knocked out and sleeping in the sun
As the world goes on. What happened to the bees?
