In the wind that is all things
Everything you can taste
And touch
And hear
And smell,
The salt sweeps horizontally
Across the lunar landscape
Of western Oklahoma. Continue reading “The Wind That is All Things”
Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry
Poetry of the People
I carry a glass bottle of water from home
When I go out. My well water is better than bottled,
Better than anything of purchase. After leaving
The Great Salt Plains, apocalyptic desert
Of salt and crystal, my bottle was empty. Continue reading “Windmill Water”