You show me the basket your mother made,
The light color of the cane entwined with the dyed scarlet,
All so evenly spaced, and the handle a perfect arch. Continue reading “In Indian Territory”
Tag: nature
Yawp Chair
My second poet chair is complete. The first one was Emily Dickinson, with emphasis on her poem “Hope is the thing with feathers.” This one is Walt Whitman’s, I decided to use verse 32 of Song of Myself for this one. In this verse, Whitman explains why he would often rather live with animals than with humans. It reads, in part: Continue reading “Yawp Chair”
Note To . . .
On the 13th day,
I recognized the feeling
of you in my body linked
to those boyfriends of my lovely
high school and college past
who I had but did not have,
that I yearned for because
there was a bittersweet beauty Continue reading “Note To . . .”
Observations
“You taste like dust,” you told me.
“But clean dust, gray dust,
gritty but not dirty.”
How to respond?
It is good to taste of dust
that is not dirt, gray
but not brown, with texture
that, nonetheless, is somehow acceptable. Continue reading “Observations”
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”
Silver
We are near the silver, approaching it,
The light like nothing, like everything,
The joy of the movement, the day, the heat
Of the color of your eyes and nothing
Between us, the color of nothing
Between us. If you stand here a while,
You will know what I mean.
Stand here a while. Know what I mean.
–Shaun Perkins
Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry 