texas dirt

there is a special
i don’t know what
exactly about texas dirt
the way it stings
your face already raw
from a merciless sun
the hot wind howling

it makes a man onery
coiled to strike
the faintest rattle
then venom and scales

contemplating
the vastness of existence
while captive in
an expanse of insistence
there is nothing quite
the same anywhere else
an oasis of sinful excess
in a wildland sliwly tamed
the dirt remembers
violently rejecting life
with all the dried blood
turning brown soil red

a place for sad poets
to opine upon nothing
words blown across the land
tangled in mesquite thorns
then blistered at noon
your soul takes on the grit
twisting it into a
desolation of turgid dream

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