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The Meaning of Grasp
The debris of white paint flecks in the golden hair Of your arms is the garbage of love and light –garbage whose original meaning was a “handful,” A “grasp.” So I will grasp your arm, your hand, Your...
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Windmill Water
I carry a glass bottle of water from home When I go out. My well water is better than bottled, Better than anything of purchase. After leaving The Great Salt Plains, apocalyptic desert Of salt and...
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The Wind That is All Things
In the wind that is all things Everything you can taste And touch And hear And smell, The salt sweeps horizontally Across the lunar landscape Of western Oklahoma. And there is beauty here, Where...
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Percival
The Temptation of Sir Percival by Arthur Hacker “ . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . one night my vow Burnt me within, so that I rose and fled, But wail’d and wept, and hated mine own self, And even the...
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The Elder Blackberry
The ones that hide out Til late July know their mission Will succeed—that they will instigate A smoky smoothness in the mouth, Compel the body to relax Into a remembered time of endless Feasts in a...
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Sand Handle
We pulled on the handle And went down to live with the crabs, Burrowing in four-feet deep To crusty water, the smell Of ocean death and pincher, Taste of ancestors crowding darkness, The message of...
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Your Wild
Photo by Ken Most nights, after I am asleep You go out with your flashlight And review things seen in day Transformed like words spoken First by someone you love, Then by someone you don’t, And sit at...
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Igraine’s Letter
It is not a chaste kiss One wants from another Who is the focus of drowning Desire It is not that Merlin: a life of magic with no love –only obsession at the end yet His empathy for Uther His empathy...
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Skateboard Blues
He cracked his skateboard in half doing a slide yesterday. Though it didn’t work, “It was cool” and it made him grin. Today he stalks the street, angling the lawnmower Ahead of him, searching for...
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The Second Isolde
I hired the best musicians to beautify the background through dinner meals or as we sat at the fire, and I played the violin, taught by a traveling magician. I learned the songs of my people and of...
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The List, The Poem, The List
I am not a poet. I don’t understand poetry. I can’t write a poem. I am not poetic. The mantra of negatives, Half spoken truthfully, Half intended to hide The fact that You are a poet. You do...
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Poem for Lewis Black
NOTE: I am going to a Lewis Black concert in Tulsa tonight and will attempt to give him this poem. Wish me luck. Oklahoma Welcomes Lewis Black We’re angry, too. We have teachers judged by the highest...
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On the Line
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...
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Nuisance
for Ken The burn pile is full of branches You wrested from a neglected arbor. They will light the November sky When we find the perfect chilly night. In my living room, you left The artwork of...
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You Will Be Found
If you hide from the snow, you will Be found, not by the conformity of color But by the negation of it. You have lived Long in the cave of steel and wire, Long in the forest of electric hum. It is the...
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Enter Reaching
Red. Yellow. Green. Hint of blush and falling leaf, Necessary as bread, sweetness of life lived Out of time and in the stolen, hidden moments We forget even as we breathe them in. Red. Yellow. Green....
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Clearing Out the Secrets
In the museum, there is a place called the Secret Corner. There are poems about secrets and a book of secret poetry. There is a large comfy chair covered in red velvet there, and you need to sit in it...
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Thankity You!
Way back in the 80′s, in the time before the interwebs, my college friends and I threw a birthday party for Lloyd, a guy who loved Spam. I’m not kidding: he ate it almost every day, and not because he...
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Ephemera
In the general store north Of Toronto, Kansas, I bought Handmade postcards from A local artist, a rusted Ford In a field of weeds, rooster, Meadows of sunflowers. The dusty baggie held Five cards. It...
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Poem-Gift Workshop Coming Up!
Poem & Journal-Maker at one of Shaun’s workshops Starting in 2014, I am going to be offering some workshops at the museum. They will all be about poetry in some way, and they will give people an...
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