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this road winds smooth
into the belly of the earth,
the rocks tinged blood-red,
cliffs bare and hard like ribs,
surround this place
dry and strong, sure as
children return.
this car wakes dust
swirling around, never ending
i can hardly see the
damp ditch weeds hovering over
the water there, clear
and cold in this hot dry land.
i still taste rain-fresh dirt
and good firm songs this land had given,
and returning prayers circle slow
and even into the belly of the land.
