The catfish are the Bozos of the bottom,
Blundering from ledges, bumping into me,
Their whiskers slashing my skirt into circus pennants.
Their heads are rocks split across the middle,
Mouths opening slowly as if levered.
They are ugly and regal and harmless,
Even when I forget where I am and startle them
By lifting the sword from the sand
And sending it to the surface before me.
The bass scatter. I speared one once. Continue reading “In the Lake”
Tag: poem
Sometimes
Sometimes you are all together.
Sometimes you are apart.
Sometimes you gather for a holiday.
Sometimes you go to work on your own.
Sometimes you eat in silence.
Sometimes your plate is full with laughter. Continue reading “Sometimes”
Finding the Place Where
One day the question collides in you,
The curve of its newness slick behind
Your ear, mimicking that same arc,
Teasing you into listening, and this time,
To the way the wind whistles around
Your neck, the adjustment your feet
Make to the undulation of the earth
On this path not taken before to a place
Which tethers you without force
—Cool ageless stones lining
The threshold where you pause to drink
From a bowl of water that has appeared
To ease the burden of the new battle
Blushing its shame through your body. Continue reading “Finding the Place Where”
Flooded Town
Yonkers, Oklahoma, was abandoned and flooded
To create Lake Fort Gibson in 1933.
Eighty years later, in the scrub oaks of
Northern Wagoner County, it remains in
Foundation puzzles and a one-room skeleton
Of the school where Cherokees and whites
Learned together until water was needed more. Continue reading “Flooded Town”
13 Welcome Back Things
Since we met over a year ago, Ken has sent me lists. He says he is not a poet, but I tend to disagree. Here is the list he sent when I returned from a long weekend in San Diego.
Red Dirt
Redbone Hounds
Ken
Needy Cats
Needy Ken
Cold Weather
Cold Cabbage
Ken Continue reading “13 Welcome Back Things”
Post-ROMP: Poetry Left Behind
I always enjoy giving the museum a good look-over after an event. I find the words and lines and poems that people have left behind. The museum encourages wordplay and almost everything in the space can be written on. Here are some of the treasures I found after our last event Nov. 16. Continue reading “Post-ROMP: Poetry Left Behind”
Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry 