sittin'.

sittin’ here

the sun crashed

into the comanche hills

and splashed quiet fire

sizzlin’

the clear fork

of the trinity


the crickets fiddle in november


over there

is the rio brazos

.the arms of god.

it cuts the country

from now to cortez

rolls the rocks

it carries dinosaur bones

and hawks with it


the lightnin’ bugs don’t get together anymore


i’d bust every rock

in the brazos

with my bare feet

just

to tell you the truth

to bring the truth

home to you.