Hesston, KS
Out here on the prairie, the funk hides
in streams that dry up by August.
You can smell it in the springtime
when the water turns, its tiny bio-
realm following the orders of a god
of funk, the bottom becoming
top, the top, bottom. Diatoms
dance and whirl, they spin and und-
ulate in lurching syn-co-pation.
Here, closer to the water, the scent
thrums your nostrils, tanking up
your brain with the nasty-sexy full-
ness of it. Try talking funk
with a Mennonite sometime. That'll send
you, too, to the creek-bed with your nose on.