Clogged earth, the remains of a Llama farm flooded years ago near Onion Creek, south of Austin. Ripping the clavicle bones from the startled muck, brushing them, sawing the bases flat so they’ll stand at mute attention.
Now lifting them into the realm of simple metaphor, I’ve tucked myself away like Matisse and his squawking parrots, celebrating an unknown future buried beneath the rank dust.