Friday, August 21st, 2009
“‘The Car That Brought You Here Still Runs’” by Paul Zarzyski
Paul Zarzyski “THE CAR THAT BROUGHT YOU HERE STILL RUNS” —Richard Hugo, from Degrees Gray in Philipsburg It takes more than gasoline and gumption to get you to Zortman—more than whimsy or a wild inkling to rekindle history. It takes a primal prairie need, a kinship with Old Man Winter, with Napi [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Poems,Tributes by Megan
Tuesday, August 18th, 2009
“Steers in Summer, Lowing” by Larry D. Thomas
Larry D. Thomas STEERS IN SUMMER, LOWING Against a backdrop of blue heaven and mesas hot as blacksmiths’ anvils, still stunned by the musk of men who castrated them as calves, they blanket the bleak range like an unrolled scroll of reddishbrown parchment scrawled with a savage calligraphy of horns. Tails lash hides so sunstruck [...]
1 Comment » - Posted in Poems,Tributes by Megan
Sunday, August 16th, 2009
“Sheep Kill” by Jeff Streeby
Jeff Streeby SHEEP KILL for Dave David, for years lost in drug-fogs, opens the throats of stunned lambs. After half his life, grown patriarchal, he puts off all Armour’s gear— safety helmet, goggles, apron, gauntlet, rubber boots, all their iron mesh and leather. Shirtless, his Old Dominion baseball cap backwards, he stands in cut-off Levis [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Poems,Tributes by Megan
Thursday, August 13th, 2009
“Authority” by Laurence Snydal
Laurence Snydal AUTHORITY When Norman sent me for the cows I couldn’t bring them in. They stood As if they had all day to browse The short grass down, as if they could Graze all the way to China. When I hollered, some of them would swing Their huge heads round and stare and then [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Poems,Tributes by Megan
Tuesday, August 11th, 2009
“A Plastic Dashboard Jesus? You Kiddin’?” by Red Shuttleworth
Red Shuttleworth A PLASTIC DASHBOARD JESUS? YOU KIDDIN’? I’d rather worm dogs for a living, she said, drunk as ten Saturday night cowgirls, but she clobbered into his pick-up truck outside of Minot, said, Okay, gimme shelter. The night was cold as half-frozen milk. An hour later she told the rancher, I’m so bored I [...]
