paper signs are strung from the telephone lines
signs for Mallory Duracell hang
from the limbs of trees
fingers of trade
amputations of nature.
bulls and goats amble
thatch hamlets
a pharmacy, a school, a hardware store, a town square
where a lot of churchmen got hacked by machetes
onions radishes melons mangos
tuna shark grouper rays
a language that is dynamic restlessly overturns the dead earth
a bulldozer
cuts a new road
trees cut for a golf course
scrub mosquito infested
flat impenetrable tangle brush
spring up eight foot limit to growth
so it seems
big trees live only
in seeds.
machete hands
returned from clearing brush,
on the bus sits next to me
weeping sores from all the chechen
he has arms and hair doused with
white lime and chaka.
there is a power to make new names
place names, people names, thing names.
“Corn Flakes”, “Xerox”
a name invasion.
bicycles, sewing machines from Korea
Kashmiri rugs
pine furniture, a pharmacy for veterinarians,
sellers of live chickens.
