~ a poem
I am certain the clouds over Texas convey something
What?
Maybe the immensity of the land’s presentation and her potential.
Maybe the air is just weird
Maybe wind doesn’t know which way to blow here
Maybe it blows *every* way
Every “maybe” is bigger in Texas, too
And everything comes in layered
Between freedom and authority,
Between libertarianism and populism,
The people are mixed
Landowners stake for every freedom save for those from their authority, which is inviolate
Workers secure homes and vacations
The land provides and economizes
Property powers paramount prides
Generation after generation
The barons pump
The industry churns
Land, oil, energy, capitalization
Everyone seen wins and everyone unseen loses
The owners hoard and hassle ranches and spouts
The workers sleep on their wages
And the land and sea a world away begins to burn and blast
The clouds over Texas abide it all
The clouds over Texas float through this history
The clouds over Texas bend and fold and sprawl across the heavy blue backdrop like a landscape painter’s wildest dreams
Because we can see them,
Because of this special Texas sun,
The clouds explode with pride
In Texas, puffy white chests of slow yet purposeful movement shape the sky and everything underneath it
Their wisps and tendrils and gripping fingers begin to choke the spirits up there
The clouds over Texas highlight the sea in the sky, the coasts and their changing lines, far from Manifest Destiny and closer now to complete collapse
Maybe they mean to match the world’s worth of this long and flat place of promised surplus and emptying promises
Maybe they concept the Texas tao
Maybe the epic forms signal the land’s significance in the coming age
Maybe the clouds are just cool.
