From a faraway dark horizon, shapes
appear on the crescent foreshortening,
their great lumber thump a rhythmic drumming
headed towards lost ancestral landscapes.
To the slow earth quake thrum below my feet,
a slow rumble ocean of tall grasses
wave like crowds to the frequence of the beat
their bunches of seeds as each foot passes.
How long has extinction kept you away?
Who told the herd to leave and not come back?
When did cave drawings fail to make them stay?
Will they leave a trail that I can track?
It’s a holographic world of visions
played out upon a shared screen by pixel
in a struggle to make believable
what’s real despite the contradictions.
Ben Gage
