It was a lonely life in the lists.
Sometimes he thought of the rust
He could be acquiring aging
In the weeds behind some barn.
Sometimes he thought a new coat
Of paint might be just the thing.
Tag: Oklahoma
Christmas at Rose, Oklahoma
In old photos, you are grainy
As the chicken shed wood,
Groovy in the rotting way,
Alive to what will be,
And not decay or was,
Not the illuminated past,
But next and next and next.
–Shaun Perkins
The Teasdale Treehouse
Next to the future home of the Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry is a oak tree that is over 100-years-old. In it is a treehouse that is 40-years-old. Continue reading “The Teasdale Treehouse”
Strange
“Buckshot guesswork,” he said,
as pulsar dust fell on hay bales
and he chewed on his cigarillo.
He took the beat up guitar,
the one his daddy played, from
the corner and broke into
a Hank Williams number.
Another followed – strange,
Almost malevolent in the half-light,
as though pale shadows of
ghosts –
Autograph
I was looking for a certain book of poetry in my shelves and found my mom’s old autograph book from when she was in junior high, 1953-55. Here are some of the quite poetic inscriptions inside:
When you get married, don’t marry a fool. Marry a boy from Locust High School.
If I was a little pig playing in the yard and you were a little dog, would you bite me very hard?
I love you little. I love you big. I love you like a little pig.
When you get married and live on a hill, send me a piece of your wedding cake by a whippoorwill.
The Position of the Stars
Miniskirt held down with laughter,
My arms full of the blue quilt
And package of cherry licorice,
You had the 6-pack of a beer
Only teenagers and drunks would buy.
We ran through the dark cow pasture
To the very center
Or what we thought might be
And still laughing, we stumbled down
Over the remains of alfalfa stalks,
The blanket and licorice beneath us
And the dark expanse of Oklahoma sky above us.
Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry 