Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry
Poetry of the People
At 5:17, the coyotes end their run,
their cries circling in on each other,
a haunting cyclone of sound you never forget.
Sometimes the world you outgrew
reclaims you, surrounding you in its ever-ness.
Keep coming.
Keep coming closer.
If you have left anything behind,
you don’t need it.
If the darkness threatens to drown you,
remember what is there.
–Shaun Perkins
When Luke was a child, we occasionally celebrated May Day. We lived in a neighborhood surrounded by old people, and we would make May day baskets, hang them on their doorknobs, knock, and run. Of course, the parent-sanctioned knocking on a door and then running was the favorite part of the whole deal for Luke. Continue reading “May Day: Knock and Run!”
I found this wooden box in a yard sale. It is perfect for secrets. You can put one in and leave it for someone else to discover. You can take one out and read someone else’s secret. You can put their secret back or you can carry it with you into the world. Continue reading “The Power of a Secret”
In the IGA refrigerated
to a degree for maintaining ice cream,
she wheels the chrome cart down the produce aisle,
where the vegetables are threatening
to freeze and bananas seem the sole safe fruit, Continue reading “Shopping”
What is known
Is all inside, beneath the buttons,
Below the bone,
To the heart of the human,
Above the clouds Continue reading “Skimming Clouds”
She didn’t want the damn thing. She TOLD Jack
and Leigh, I got no use for that damn thing.
They set it up on the table she kept
potted plants and grocery sacks on, and she
ignored it for two weeks before warming
up some dinner rolls. She pushed start; her heart
fluttered at the sound of the glass cracking.
It’s that twisty-tie, Jack said on the phone.
Continue reading “Blowing up the Microwave”
Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry 