the view from the laundry room south, 

the obamaland fundation landgrab, 11-18-21. 

the dump trucks dump sand to fill the wetland. 

i pray for rain, for the water to rise 

and reclaim what he took, 

what is not his. 

i stop on the way down at the old washtub oracle, the old heartsink, 

knowing the world is not shaped by the likes of me. 

from up high it looks like toys moving around by remote control boys.

and then it seems like the whole world captured in 20 acres

and the full moon tonight in partial eclipsed will shine 

on the empty ground of his fundation 

all the dead trees he's repurposed 

and the animals and people he's displaced.