bison robotics

oil on linen 21 x 34 inches spring 2021

They will one day again roam the great plains.

Three of them graze a pink-orange sky, hides of riveted sheet metal, legs of jointed steel. The companion poem lives with Cyclic Repetition: we missed the bison, so we brought them back as robots — and when the chips ran out, we hunted them all over again, the oldest technique aimed at the newest herd. Ancient cycles repeat.