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FOR AN AGRARIAN, SMILING, by                    
First Line: The mind's portico is dusty and its fence
Last Line: The white magnolias and grey confederate bones!


The mind's portico is dusty and its fence
ambles over the rutted hill and gullied:
clean the sky of smoke and with the violence
of poetry keep the weary land unsullied.

The antique music of relics marls the dusty
patches while the bitter hollyhocks demurely
forbid the implements from getting rusty:
you must keep them bright and shine them dearly.

When earthern songs were precipitate in the soil
the textured loam slipped through the hand, no stones:
O let us prefer to portentous turmoil
the white magnolias and grey Confederate bones!





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