A place to gather words before they get lost.
like that part in the music where it still sounds like snow used to
— from 'That Part In The Music' by Carl Phillips
slipping dripping rhythms of the air, falling, in places where our ears barely hear, our thoughts disappear, for only a moment before her voice comes calling us back
Original poem: https://poets.org/poem/part-music?mc_cid=a96c9b334c&mc_eid=ed9c8bae96
Driftwood, bobbling on constant ocean currents; high tide brings it home
A moon, known by some as Harvest, Song or Barley, takes the stage as Corn
Hardy, but hardly sleepy, these Chrysanthemums bloom brightly, daily
Nighttime's slumbering, like a weary teenager waking late for school
for Algot
Ten bears, fallen;
constellations, stolen from their stories,
they're wandering, marching in tandem across the Iowa soil:
Native mound-builders knew what we have now lost
inspired by NWP Write Across America, Iowa
Effigy Mounds https://youtu.be/tYri8_Llbg0
Caught inside the space between rock and river
water flows, still, always
Any decision to remain, decided
inspired by NWP Write Across America, Iowa
The narrative arc of the story of this land gets told in transaction -
the Abstract of title of people who've purchased pieces of this property over the years -
we read it together, tonight, you and I, tracing moments of prosperity and poverty, of long leases and quick sells, as the land sleeps its way through another generation,
patient, as always, but rarely forgiving
inspired by NWP Write Across America, Iowa
A flutter finds us walking through a shifting crowd of sparrows, swerving
Tonight's gone hazy; In the fog, Summer meets Fall and rests for a spell