We stopped the white Chevy with the rusted tailgate,
Half in the ditch, and walked up the hillside,
Through the pine trees and scrub oak, fall leaves
Like letters in an abandoned apartment cracking
Under our feet. There was nothing and everything
To see in the woods, the snake skin, coyote scat,
Half-hidden killdeer nest, muddy water of the hollow.
He pointed these things out to me, a child learning
to see from her father. We all learn
To see from the people who came before us. Continue reading “The Killdeer”
Category: Poems
Poetry from Oklahoma
Sunday Night
Eros walked into the room like he’d forgotten
How to fly; like his wings had been left behind
In some other girl’s bedroom, some other girl’s
Backside. He walked into the room like hey,
I’m just trying to meet you where you are at.
Let’s make it happen. But avert your eyes. Continue reading “Sunday Night”
Asking for It
On the blind channel, Jane Russell’s wrists strain the leather straps,
Her bosoms in her filmic Howard-Hughes-created bra,
Contorted like wadded socks in the wash.
The narrator says, “She turns from Billy in disgust.” Continue reading “Asking for It”
Art
Could I have gone on forever in the
shadows with you, in the mosaic of
night broken with our desires, jagged
with blind care and the work of twin dreamers? Continue reading “Art”
Always With
Always with the words, always with the pen,
Always with the fingers upon the keyboard,
Always with the thoughts, always with the clang
Of time on the kettle on the stove, always
With the conversation held back, always with calls
Across rooms deserted and full, always with
The nonsense of rain in the background to enter Continue reading “Always With”
Sticks and Stones
I learned yesterday that I am a finalist in this competition. Here is the poem I sent in. I will be sending the rest of the manuscript now.
She was reminded of the aphorisms from childhood:
“This is for your own good” and also,
“This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you.”
He never wanted to spurn her. There was something
Uncontrollable in him, a world of the parent
That enabled him to decide that making his world
Disappear from her was for her own good.
He let her grip on his thighs slide down
To his knees and then to his calves and then
She fell to earth as he continued to fly.
He was so sure he was hurting more.
Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry 