Plaza
Johnson Gallery 2110 pine drive,
dickinson, texas 77539 (281) 614-1224



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On this road and throughout the countryside You see it: two boards and a chewed-up leather Strap with which they've loosely strung together Knocked into the ground where someone died. Rocks. The fire-tufted ocotillo trees' Thin shadows lengthen, and at dusk a man Comes to fill a battered coffee can With calla lilies. Here the new day decrees Another one, and memory decays Unable to remember what it was Quickened the heart awhile or gave it pause; What settled it in this unlikely place? What is the mind that it does mind, after all, Though set apart even from itself, that words, Deprived of their senses, lie like pots and sherds Lumped in the clay they consecrate and call Up, as from nothing, some place, this countryside or any--the strict sand, the sleek mirage, pale ash, Blown off a smoldering pile of roadside trash A stray dog roots around in, teary-eyed.
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