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. . .