I feel strangely attracted to you, Lorenz……
My words then depart my lips,
Fly off in a maelstrom of silence
Above a rusty-brown badlands of
Endless gorges and gullies.
Wind-whipped whirling dervishes cast sand
Down these crevasses in a crazed fury.
And as the hot breath expels from the opening
Clouds of dust coalesce into a flight of
Multitudinous butterflies breaking free in all directions.
From above our nation an observer watches
The Aurelian cloud expand, the scintillating
Glamour of iridescent wing-beats pulsating as
Relentlessly as the pounding heart of the bison.
Let us call the observer Lorenz; the bison’s hoof-print
The endlessly repeated circle.