Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry
Poetry of the People
The closet is musty with cold mildew.
The cut-rate carpenter glued sheets of plywood
to the concrete block foundation with no
penny of thought for insulation or worse.
Glue hardens instantly in Oklahoma wind
and the gaps appear, moisture dripping in.
Carpet breeds green blobs, cotton dresses
filling with the thick damp odor of acorns. Continue reading “Her Closet”
In honor of St. Patrick’s Day, I was thinking of Ireland this morning. The country has a wonderful blog called Poetry Ireland that celebrates and promotes poetry across the country. Currently, on the main page a literary festival held in Dublin Castle is being advertised. Oh wouldn’t I love to go to that? With my name, I could fit right in. Continue reading “Dance With Me in Ireland”
Scribbled affection
dusted in bone-ash blowback
paneful messages
gazing in
Attic exhibit
Defensively tucked away
Eight panes
Eight years
— Tony Lee Orr
624 Thesselonia Avenue
10:51 a.m., March 25
What have we got here?
Boys on the way to school found her.
They touch the body, move anything?
Nah, they were so scared they took off running.
Got an ID? Got any identifying marks?
Nope, dress has no pockets, probably just a tart.
Or a goddess, Lenny, you know it’s hard
To tell ‘em apart on the road in the dark.
Dun. Dun. Continue reading “Crime Story”
They were fifteen and smoked Lucky Strikes
on the train to Tulsa. Both wore their best dress.
Montie Jean’s was blue taffeta with lace
crocheted along the collar. She had to stand
or stroll to keep it from creasing at her hips. Continue reading “Spring Train”
Welcome to a witching
house
(we wear our robes
of disenchantment
very well)
This is an invitation – limited
Time offer
Special opportunity
For private eyes only
Red tag sale— Continue reading “Witching House”
Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry 