7.3

the tassels brown, mauve, golden

top the corn flow, rising off into

distances. Male corn sperm ready

to give themselves to the silk.

we’ve built a country upon you

friends, food, fuel, silage for the

feeders of the world. hybrid, pure

bred, homeopathic heart of the

heartland.

maize of our aztec ancestors,

we formed you into the green

gold grain of our growth, over

flowing into cross country seas

of abundance

while Pretty Boy Floyd the outlaw

dove and died into your midst,

running for his life in the hope

that your breadth might hide him.

homes, farms, families have devoured

themselves in the resounding of

your might. tassel tips waving, silk

at the rest, come now to our aid,

as we starve amongst the plenty.

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