Sunday, July 31, 2011

at the rodeo parade

The big drum talks
from the back of the pickup truck.
It is the day named for Chief Joseph,
perhaps  in honor, it's hard to say, exactly.
At any rate, there's a Pendleton blanket
bearing his name draped over the hood
of a Red Ford Ranger.
Each decorated truck and car swings
proudly into line, bearing
with care the young boys,
the young girls, whose place this WAS.
They carry feathered things, beaded things.
Watchers smile and say "how pretty!" but 
don't what they are talking about.
On the back of an old car decorated
with dibble sticks and
other practical goods, a flute from
some other culture speaks,
in time with the drumming of
the old engine. Or maybe that's the
tinny bass from a boom box playing
traditional drum tunes. It's hard to say.
Each in turn turns a corner
onto the main drag, and young dancers
and elder drivers toss the new
coin of the realm: cheap, sweet
candies that fly to the hands
of white children in cowboy hats
dancing along the road. 

news from a small town 32, July 2011

Friday, July 8, 2011

forecast: 83 degrees and snow

wake up and smell the ozone -
if you can get the door
latched shut in time.
there’s thunder in the air and
you can smell it coming
half a day away. it smells
like humidity and cotton
candy and a worn out
steam iron and yet not quite
any of that. but that was
then and this is now, when
the down draft whistles
down the canyons, shakes
the trees, and knocks out
the lights with a power that’s
entirely elemental. wipe
the desire off your face, rush
out, roll up the windows
on the rig – but too late… the
entire dash is spattered with
dust and raindrops, blown
in at right angles.the thunder

rolls down the mountain
in honor of our most famous
son, again and again. in
your nose it is the iron age, 

and the air tastes of zinc
and danger and the
sulking of an old friend.



news from a small town 31, July 2011

Monday, July 4, 2011

on the run


A gallop in the Wallowas.

the car window diet

in a rolling explosion
tourist doughnuts shatter
along the roadside and they are now
crow fodder, and emergency rations
for ants, and for the random dogs who
happen along, too. it is littering, say
the denizens of community service -
bending and bagging: and yet it is
good for you and you and you.

news from a small town 30, July 2011