AMAR SIN MENTIRAS
Driving the country roads
of south Alabama
in late February,
cusp of spring,
old gold and green fields
rolling backwards,
grazing animals roan and brindled
tiles in a barnyard mosaic,
clean sheen of neonascent light,
luminous and numinous,
shifting shapes of clouds
like ghosts playing haunted
house in skies of unused blue.
Who can espcape unscathed
this underworld of images?
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