I want to marry a Mexican farm worker.
No particular one.
I'm not usually in the habit of posting my poetry on this, but I like this one. I want feedback.
The Faceless
The sun sets on this fertile land of plenty
casting a bronze glow on the blueberry garden of Eden
and the newly painted sign
directing us to the Labor Camp.
The happy blue collars that work tirelessly
just like good euphemisms
during the bright hours, have now packed
their briefcases and gone home
to dine with their faceless white families.
They will not hear or read of this moment of clarity.
In blind revelation, we drive on
through the nether hours of negative space.
We park, wave and watch
the lost civilization emerge from the rubble.
Their bodies are made of hardened earth,
but their faces are golden and gleaming.
They’ve been robbed of everything
but that most precious treasure
which white man will never see
or learn to covet.
I'm not usually in the habit of posting my poetry on this, but I like this one. I want feedback.
The Faceless
The sun sets on this fertile land of plenty
casting a bronze glow on the blueberry garden of Eden
and the newly painted sign
directing us to the Labor Camp.
The happy blue collars that work tirelessly
just like good euphemisms
during the bright hours, have now packed
their briefcases and gone home
to dine with their faceless white families.
They will not hear or read of this moment of clarity.
In blind revelation, we drive on
through the nether hours of negative space.
We park, wave and watch
the lost civilization emerge from the rubble.
Their bodies are made of hardened earth,
but their faces are golden and gleaming.
They’ve been robbed of everything
but that most precious treasure
which white man will never see
or learn to covet.