God Bless the rains down in Africa

ants cry, iron-hot sky, simple groupings of human beings

dirt rots, antique gun-shots, many many animal seeings

missionaries travel, broken gavel, rule-less men with most ancient laws

vegetables for sale in cast-iron pail, beware of the large critter’s paws

a time-machine window, a diamond weave spindle, poverty that won’t leave your nose

a place where it isn’t quite sexy to go about not wearing clothes

thirdworld we call it, as we pour out our wallet, but what do they know that we don’t?

we think we flourish, with wealth dinosaurish, but the judges of later, perhaps they won’t. . .