Men in caverns attest
To earlier drawings in which
Empirical bisons have appeared
To laud a conundrum: the eternal
Stance of beauty.

Across the millennia, gaping
Memories of plight strike
Regular and nauseating
Like the munch of grazing.

You are going to paint a cloudy day
Over the grasslands of imagination,
where solace is brushed off,
Even while inklings of the migraine mother,
Big Belle Catastrophe, throb iffly
Like a McClure sestina in New Haven.

By the awe and flicker of fire,
It needs reading, but after briefing,
According to the obedience of fact,
The murder of our own ecosystems.