Between the dams, I get off my bicycle
At the orange splotches alongside the road.
Their fruit print pattern an indication of this . . .
It is autumn and time to taste the smoky
Sweet juice, the fruit darkened almost to brown
And hard to get at, the seeds so large, Continue reading “Persimmons”
Tag: news
Overheard at the Scale House
What a dick!
Pug a beast*
You’re on the wrong channel.
I think I can. I think I can.
. . . new set of handcuffs
That’s what her name was.
I think I just dropped 2 tickets
Down the hole.
Dispatch? . . . Dispatch? . . . Dispatch?
Need to pick up some riff-raff*
Down in the hole
You’re just psycho with a capital ‘S.’
Don’t aggravate the pug!*
–Shaun Perkins
Note: Most popular rock at the quarry is called “pugged aggregate base.” Another item that trucks frequently come in for is “rip-rap,” 12”-24” boulders like you see under bridges or close to waterways.
The Sand Plant
Pyramids in the Tulsa desertAn iron insect spitting sand.
Shaggy black quarry dog,
stray god of the river,
lopes between the dozers.
70 Years Ago Today: She Got a Diary
On June 12, 1942, Anne Frank received a diary for her thirteenth birthday. One month later, her family went into hiding.
She got a diary.
Red and white checked cover.
It was to hold a thirteen-year-old girl’s life,
Pet peeves, family outings, friends,
Movie stars, her annoying sister,
A flirtation, a hard teacher, the beauty
Of the canal water in the noonday sun. Continue reading “70 Years Ago Today: She Got a Diary”
Johnny Depp, Poetry Man
Johnny Depp. Today, June 9, is his birthday. He is 49! I am writing this post to see how many hits I can get by putting his name in it. Johnny Depp. Just tagging that. . . . Well, not really. Here’s Johnny Depp and poetry in America:
Johnny read Jim Morrison’s poetry in the documentary about the Doors When You’re Strange. I haven’t seen it, but it came out in 2012. Have any of you seen it? Continue reading “Johnny Depp, Poetry Man”
Dispatching at the Rock Quarry
The trucks are either white or red.
Alliance, the white ones say.
Cowboy, the red ones.
An occasional blue one appears,
All driven by men except one,
whose driver calls in her mission
and adds, Have a nice day.
Pugged aggregate base. Rip rap.
Screenings. Bedding. Crusher run.
The language of rock.
Make a bridge, build a road,
Lay a foundation. It all starts
from a hole in the ground.
–Shaun Perkins
Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry 