Ashley Valmere Fischer, Untitled from Daily Reflections (photograph)
I wanted to drive my car up close to an object in the dark,
and to stare until it was yet no thing,
To an olive colored field many shades of one color marine,
where the lights blink out the archband distance, yellow
All though they are every other one white,
and where in that far-field the lights mean
Kitchens, big rigs, the petroleum, the shale, the soft
chicken battered in cornflakes, the bags coated with grease
Tied off on doorknobs, the people sleeping t-shaped in belts,
the men in shirtsleeves walking on crosswalks
Sublimating in the gourd-orange sodium light, I wanted to —
To get out and to trespass by one leg
on the soybeans,
To say I want this to last and last, in my plain speaking voice,
to the bones-open tractor indistinguishable from itself and
From itself and from the greatblack rind of tire I could not see
that I could not see,
To touch nothing but with my ankles
the fuzzysmooth crops with that one trespass,
To say it is so easy, so simple, to be this way that I am
and to know it, because I have always been.