Between Meteors and Fireflies
In a drought year, corn stubble bends
into Headlines: “Farmers pray for rain.”
Tumbleweeds take time to harmonize
and choreograph, somewhere between
meteors and fireflies. The grocery
sells blueberries all year round, but
the charge card feels heavy as a refrigerator
once you slip it from the wallet.
You don’t end up buying the magazines;
just browse. It’s a tow truck, doorbell
button, garbage disposal broke summer:
no real difference between a silo and a
paper sack, it seems. And in the hallway,
light glows from under the bathroom door.
You find yourself asking what it means.
, after earning his MA in Creative Writing from the University of California
at Davis, moved to Omaha where he now lives with his wonderful wife Sarah and baby daughter Sophia.
Over 100 magazines and anthologies have published his poems, including Laurel Review, Prairie
Schooner, The Morpo Review,
and the online edition of Mississippi Review.
His first full-length collection, Things We Don't Know We Don't Know,
released by The Backwaters Press in 2006.