North enters the story with one sweep
Of the wind’s cold hand. It bruises you
With its knowledge of You can never
Leave. You cannot unbend the steel
You placed so carefully along your spine.
But the wind is more than cannot. Continue reading “Cannot”
Tag: map
What is Lost
For Curt
The road goes north or east,
And no one knows if it might end
Or where. The sycamores lift leafy heads
Away from the highway’s movement
Above bridges still being built.
The exit calls to you
Like a childhood classmate you don’t
Remember but recognize anyway.
LED billboards jangle the night
Into a kind of hyperactive silence
On the edge of the city. Continue reading “What is Lost”
Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry 