chanticleer south central farm

here, upside down, the cement where one sits outside the fence warms, pale t-shirt raises everchanging flag language, la tierra es de todos

tomato accepting life outside the fence tells by scent how the scent, transferred to one's fingers by stroking tingling stems, enters, undeniably fuses

so what's been undone (severely question and requestion the profiteer 'til an answer comes) so what's been undone animates again, branches, spills up from splits and cracks, by what force in human

now recognize

speaks truth to power, smoking pinon resin encircled face, neck, shoulders, chant chainlinked vines and trees de todos de la lucha de la tierra coloreada, translates the dayspring chanticleer to twilight

blackwhite seagulls moving inland from shore intersect overhead circle, arrowlike wings shoot eastward, sun, where hands, even the rubbly pavement, on which one places her palms, her forehead, pebbles, rocks, and gives

still many, birds perching, darting, calling through the bearing open land