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| Image source: millslegacy |
X percent of farm houses
stand empty. Or don’t stand
at all. Algorithms of corn
stretch to the horizon.
Nights stay hot,
and moon-shadows
slip like coyotes
across the fields
to drink and smoke joints
in cool, dry cisterns
that they have cleaned out
for clubhouses.
Only nighthawks
monitor the white puffs
of gross domestic product
rising into the stars.
John Palen has recent work in Poydras Review Blog, The Cossack, The New Poet, Citron Review, and Lingerpost. He lives and writes in Central Illinois.
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