Empty In fields I look across no matter how tall the weeds or prolific the grass flat and barren lush and hilly they all look the same unslaved symbolism free to be dry, hot, plain to run muddy red after a rain released and relinquished the meadow of dreams painted brush with lunar beams the upshot of farmers' deeds alone, the splendor of empty Runways hold my eyes down the tarmac concrete no interference with the jets once they're on their way wheels on a linear pillaged stage deprived of human stain strips of rubber separate sparks from steel spared the constraint of non-space the skyward road to forever's grace splayed, temporal and expansive in cracks, the asphalt flowers ache as earth and air begin to break across the slicked down surface slate alone, it lies there empty
