“Chants
going forth from the centre
from Kansas, and thence equidistant
shooting in pulses of fire ceaseless to vivify all”
—Walt Whitman

BREATHING KANSAS

Work Work Work Work Work Work Work Work
is the ethic
that drives the tractors
crustbusting cross the buffalo wallows.
Breathe it in.

It's Kansas
tumbling big skies between cottonwoods.
The high plains where all is horizon.
Mud track farm roads that run on forever.

In Garden City
Hutchinson
Emporia
pollyannas in pigtails
still dreaming up tornadoes.

Along US #50 monuments to wagon ruts
still cut in the clay of the Santa Fe Trail.

All the Kansas
people of the South Wind
marched off to Oklahoma
intermarried
leaving only stories
& the pureblood of their names:
Topeka
Chicopee
Oskaloosa
Breathe it in.

The centerfold prime rib wheat heart of America.

Whitewashed steeples where the minister stands
shaking hands loose from pockets.
Windmills.
Feedlots.
Grain elevators.

Blue out to grass & wind blowing strong.
Hymns in the pews & jukebox for the barstools.

Out here in the plowed fields
night's a morse code of farm lights
mimicking stars.
Daytime thunder crackles.
Clouds plume & vanish.

Dusk rare as roast beef
& dawn's first licks juicy
in the microwave East.
Breathe it in.

It fills the lungs with distance.
Legs stretch out with the Kaw
the Smoky Hill
the Arkansas.


Rivers drying up go underground
as the pumps feed the pipes
that circle like vultures.

Fears root in
with the sinking water table.
Dwindling fuel.

Dust storm eyes irrigate themselves.

In a good year one's whole field of vision
gone bushel-green & sprouting.
Sunflowers & futurities.
Snow on the milo & heads on the stalks.
Threat of hail & harvest rush.
Breathe it in.

Breathe in this land
this rolling pasture
this underneath us steady earth
heaving like the Mother sea
prairie swells rippling with grain.
Breathe it in.

Know this home for what it is:
scarred belly of the Turtle.

The wide-angle open-eye buffalo heart of the continent.

Let it breathe within you.

Be inspired
by what breathes
beneath your feet.

art goodtimes
union of street poets
vincent st. john local / colorado plateau / aztlán
kuksu brigade (ret.) / san francisco