Barstow: A Poem

Rebecca OUP-US

Below is a poem by Buffalo Poet King Otho. Let him know what you think in the comments.

That anger will
that no thought
comes and
sputtering engine
no mind
no hope
but
FIRES BURN
White eyed explainations
another fist
a dieing palm
in red light
darkness.
Trampled grasses
and seething waterfronts
no burn. No trampled grasses,
Quiet — save for the
clanging of midnight machines
black metal insects
chomp chomp chomp
the fertile fields
wrapped in soft blue
wrapped in dark black
wrapped in questionmark
infinity