Little Eagle Press presents poems previously published. Well worth another look, we think.
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
photoart: ralph murre
by Marc J. Frazier
Can a chair hand made from poplar make me whole?
We scour for the one-of-a-kind, crafted with the visionary
Spirits reach out in Lick Creek, Nauvoo,
At dusk, we join deer drawn by trust into open fields—
no moment more vulnerable than when one stares, waiting.
I scent out a psychic, who will know me as placeless, know me by smell.
None materializes as we dodge bats outside our cabin,
many versions at home in us.
We drive deeper into summer. Signs along dirt lanes:
Half Day Hollow, Quarry Heart, Clover Dell
Time has gutted roads, our memory—that farmhouse on
I join your search for a long-ago lover
Each looks at me like the Tarantula Arms where Blanche lured her prey.
Between fields of corn and beans, it is easy to forget—
mind blank as the anonymous face of an Amish doll.
In this country,
are the same,
women so calm I want to lie down, sleep like a baby
before them, sit and work something with my hands,
eyes grazing prairie, until it and myself are perfect.
~ first published in
Spoon River Poetry Review
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Marc J. Frazier - poet
Ralph Murre - artist