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      January 2, 2019The Town Drunk Recalls the Rainmaker, Guymon, Oklahoma, 1935Benjamin Myers

      They brung this Yankee man down here to make
      it rain with rockets fired into the clouds
      and dynamite tied to balloons. He’d take
      a stick of TNT, wave back the crowds
      of farmers’ wives and scrawny kids, then light
      the fuse and just let go. The fire would rise
      on wicks beneath balloons, dim in that bright,
      hot mid-day sun. The sparks were thick as flies
      falling on the kids and farmers’ wives. Then boom
      and nothing more. No rain. No, not so much
      as one small, spitty drop. The crop of broom
      corn kept on withering; the wheat stayed dry to touch.
      Flat cloud on flat sky like a sheet with a piss stain.
      There ain’t no man can make it rain.

      from #61 - Fall 2018

      Benjamin Myers

      “The first real poem I wrote was for a girl when I was in high school, and, since I have now been married to her for almost twenty years, I guess I started off with an inflated sense of poetry’s ability to make things happen. Even if I rarely see comparable results from poems these days, poetry has become a way of being for me, and I couldn’t imagine my life without it.”