This is where they hung the sky when I was young;
on a hook, draped loose over the yawning void
above Midwestern highways
cutting through heartland fields
where farmers till the soil
and sun-bleached barns
cave in upon themselves
imperceptibly.
And I would stare into that sky
with ineffable longing.
on a hook, draped loose over the yawning void
above Midwestern highways
cutting through heartland fields
where farmers till the soil
and sun-bleached barns
cave in upon themselves
imperceptibly.
And I would stare into that sky
with ineffable longing.
I wrote this a few years ago. The first couple of lines came into my head as I was driving from Ohio to Minnesota. I had to pull over to the side of the highway so I could write them down before I forgot them.
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