Red. Yellow. Green. Hint of blush and falling leaf,
Necessary as bread, sweetness of life lived
Out of time and in the stolen, hidden moments
We forget even as we breathe them in. Red.
Yellow. Green. You see them from a distance
In the orchards between farmhouses, bruised
In the stiffening grass, marked by months
On limbs, marked by limbs branched over secrets
The seasons tell. Hard to hold, skin a sheen
Of untouching, one’s own skin aged in comparison. Continue reading
If you hide from the snow, you will
Be found, not by the conformity of color
But by the negation of it. You have lived
Long in the cave of steel and wire,
Long in the forest of electric hum.
It is the day for you to make new
Memories. Continue reading
What are your earliest poetry memories? Mine seem to revolve around narrative poems. I particularly remember reading Longfellow’s “Evangeline” in junior high and getting to actually illustrate parts of it. I remember drawing Evangeline and thinking the situations in that very long poem were so far-away and unreal to me, and I tried to make her real by drawing her. To this day, I can picture the little white bonnet and apron I put on her and the long plain green dress, only a few wisps of her brown hair visible coming out of the bonnet. Continue reading
The radio show State of the ReUnion visited the museum back in August as part of a story about Tulsa. Listen to their story about us (it’s about 4 minutes) and watch the slide show of photos taken during their visit. You can also listen to the whole show about Tulsa. Thanks, Al and Delaney from State of the ReUnion.
The SOTR shows are all on its website, but they are also picked up by NPR stations across the country.
Go to SOTR’s website and listen to more of their stories from this season and past seasons. They are wonderful works of storytelling, listening, witness and documentation.
Pippi checks out the Poetic Fortune machine.
POETIC FORTUNE MACHINE
For the price of a measly quarter, you can have a beautiful poetic fortune–a couplet that will set you on the path to riotuous living and harmony or debauchery and ditch-sleeping, whichever you prefer.
But wait, there’s more . . . if you also want a poetic fortune and cannot come toot sweet to the museum to insert your quarter into the machine, I will gladly do it for you. Send a U.S. dollar bill to my PayPal account (firstname.lastname@example.org), and I will put a quarter in the machine for you and then email you a photo of the fortune you get! Continue reading
The burn pile is full of branches
You wrested from a neglected arbor.
They will light the November sky
When we find the perfect chilly night. Continue reading