We crossed the wide Mississippi
riding our John Deere mowers,
like Farnsworth in Straight Story;
malachite green fields doubtful,
dotted with a hiatus of machines,
whirring gestures spinning,
a herd of residential
looming like phantoms in the night air:
we boiled water for coffee
and we baked our bread
and spit the fish we caught
in the waters of the wide Mississippi.
I've been at my parents and there was no computer access; they seem to take a Luddite stance against them, although singing fishes and other such oddities hold no fear for them. It is also hard to get a cell phone signal unless you get in the car and drive a bit.
pictures won't load this AM... Blogger problem.