by Ren Gay Dustin Humes I pulled up each blade of grass by the roots from this manicured lawn and realized there was nothing except cigarette butts and wilted four-leaf clovers. Nearby mud daubers build hives from crumbled asphalt, trip the bicyclist and take the skin from her knees as payment. Recognize this untamed lawn for what it is -- the earth taking back its own name -- but know this all comes at the cost of never truly being home. Our front yard reforms as a rippling