Christopher Keller Poems

Out there, were freeways of Montana wheat fields,
and I didn't need to say anything to anyone,
rolling down the sleeves of an Oldsmobile,
leaning out of that husk with a drunken kiss on my lips,
...

A woman wearing a bandanna
is praying from the front pew of a church.
She is thinking of the same things again,
a deserted home with a fallen chimney,
...

Being twelve and coming from a father who worked
through most holidays in a man hole,
and a mother whose calloused hands were from working
large planters of flowers to sell,
...

There is a clear language
spilled into ears,
recovered by eyes with a bit of bruising,
from the huge viscera of oceans hiding
...

What I am on your skin,
in the air where your voice treads
as calm as brown lies in Copper Canyon,
is amnesia waking.
...