Cheyenne by the Brook

Cheyenne by the brook,

beyond wheat sprung silhouettes

below fruit fly clouds.

Birds of freedom smear

thin skies.

Birds of peace graze,

On Buffalos of war.

Tribal hunts howl

across concrete plains.

Mechanical days blend

oil to organic nights,

industrial dawns steam.

Foreboding faiths bid

the highest wager

to win.

reptilian states shed

crispy skins,

militant mere cats lift their heads.

Scorpions in sand.

Corporation cosmos.  Money magic–

buy identity cocktails.

Arch ciphers,

the Goddess of hope is the last to die.

wise tactics, keep her alive.

*

The Ten Native Commandments.”

Chief Me, do good.

Smoke bamboo pipes.

Shamans shudder songs

in rising orange embers,

silhouettes of the untamed.

Animal skins.

Flesh of flesh,

for you and me.

Lets play into those lines…

Beyond that circle…

Those confines

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