Skin of the Earth, fingerprint ridges of America,
Winslow towards Gallup,
Driving from the West, Manifest Destiny.
Train veins, their double-decker Snowpiercer’s,
Light cucking cliffs and desert land thirsting,
While sandstone breasts and tent rock popsicles
perk
as the Sun teases to set
And horizons melt while God begins to knead,
Hands enmeshed
Blood pumping and chugging, downwards, upwards, East and West,
Birds cue their soar and circuses of cirrus lay you down to rest.
thomasdanielvalls.com 