When I was twelve years old I climbed into a tent beside a fire and listened while two men swapped stories from Korea. The first was eloquent about the Turks. At night they sang around their fires then suddenly went silent. Sunrise, the Chinese pickets other side were dead. Men thought this happened once the singing stopped, but no, the campfires and the songs disguised approach up to each picket’s back. “The Turks,” the first man…… More »
"Then let him ride in the bed of the truck and wave the world home." That was the old man's answer. So I made my small-fist climb up back Of the cab, to see things in reverse and hear The wind generalizing hedgerows and oaks, And watch the avenues of fields that broke Whenever a hedge gave out and sudden farm Emerged, dogs barking alarm— As we kept up that way, Under the shade that tunneled and played And deepened the road. But where were we going? I…… More »
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