Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry
Poetry of the People
Is this a dream or not, I’ll say
Sitting in the dark
With a magazine in my hand
And the harmonica on the floor
By my socks
The war outside continues
Constant crashing, breaking
The drip, drip of the melting icicles
As they fall softly to the ground
To the snow
Put on your boots and go outside
Crash Continue reading “Down the Road”
Molly tells me you can read
Your fortune in the bathtub:
Run out, count the stars, then
Lock yourself in the bathroom, turn
Off the lights, and you’ll see
Your grave in the bathtub—I did.
But she must be lying.
Oh what I wouldn’t give
For a nickel and a dime
And a cherry with a seed
Inside to crack my teeth upon.
I’m going home, home,
On my way home. Continue reading “Name This Poem”
I still show up to find out
what happened to me
and the rest of us, to know how a plot
continues without the characters,
how my turn of phrase
feels in someone else’s mouth,
in a different land, in a
country beyond our imagining. Continue reading “On the Line”
Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry 