dust devils dance on
the floor of decayed chicken houses
kicking up heels of white feathers,
the smell of the daily grind
that had encyclopedias calling
this place: The Egg Basket of the World
Captain Bill & Billy Ralph stand, crow bars
in hand, ignoring
the growth of golden rolling hills,
eucalyptic sprouts…
40 feet high, sway & creak—
spearheads spiral down from their limbs
to cover the paths of brown
beetles & slugs
Capt. Bill & Billy Ralph are
scavengers tearing down
obsolete structures
& salvaging the wood
to sell to new builders
this is the work
this is the life
passed down from generations
from “the old country”
where Bill was raised
to America where Billy Ralph was born
it’s so simple — Billy Ralph gets lost
in timeless exchange
…day into day
no separation
no rift of dark ocean
piece merges into piece…
the whole always more than the sum of its parts
Billy Ralph swells into these moments
swirling like the devils
& is inclined to forget
bloodlines for the incarnations of this spirit
it is for this reason Wamba sits
on Billy’s shoulders Wamba is
his pet chicken with all the sights & sounds
& smells of yesteryear
Wamba is the spur for Billy Ralph’s whole body…
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