If I lived here
I would not find the cloud constructions
or the flattened topography remarkable.
I would not dwell on the broadband
black angus dominating the surface.
I would not be surprised
that the vocabulary of local radio contains more
than farfetched country lyrics and improbable preachers,
that there’s a place for Shostakovich,
who wrote this stunning piano piece
when he was just fifteen
as a dissonant soundtrack for a road
through a land of football
and beef and easy handshakes
and slow motion deliberations
that somehow fit together like equations,
where angus is still the watchword
but where Shostakovich ekes out a living too,
and signs his name on the back of the
“Greetings from Nebraska” postcard
in a cursive suggesting mirth.
andy's as good a judge of poems as any and his words on this are spot-on.
I enjoyed both of this evening's postings of yours, but preferred this poems evocative imagery to the stark despair of your dysfunctional family. The images really worked in the mind of this midwesterner.
I really love this one! My New York friends think there is nothing to America between Manhatten and Las Angeles. You have nailed that part of the country to a 'T.' I keep trying to put New Mexico on the map but hardly anyone listens. Well done. I especially love 'land of football and beef and easy handshakes.' Good folks there. Raynette
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I think this is stunning. Simply wrought, yet with eloquence and poise. Regards, Stephen Parnell