Minnesota's Public Radio - Poem by nathan martin
hood covered lutherns wear their naratives
under a furrow of clouds, their earmuffed
stereo headphones filled with luke warm
momo-tones from garrison kiellors
the white clay people commun in the clouds
discusssing the progressive aesthetic and
of what it means to 'feel minnesotan'.
gathering together they fall down along
icy tundra's to form weavers guilds in
they read faulkner and hawthorne paperbacks
talking a lttle less nonsense than most.
where strong coffee meets warn out floor mats,
a hand radio with a little static and a little oscillating
magnetic current searches through the snow driven
clouds for warmth and reason.
Comments about Minnesota's Public Radio by nathan martin
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You