thoughts on food as i move closer and closer to organic
So much of my youth comes back to a cornfield in Iowa.
In the heartland where my father farmers knew
That all mouths are the same shape on the inside.
& we would feed them corn and soy.
& the beef of 10,000 cattle in a single bite.
& we would bend the boars together and slice them
paper thin. Our father farmers knew
that all the mouths would taste the same
when we would feed them corn and soy
& the feat of 10,000 cattle in a single field.
Our father farmers knew that we weigh silos
with our pennies & sleep-walk to the fridge—
so much of my life belongs to a cornfield in Iowa
where livestock wade in waste-land and the poultry
knows no sun.