Big Bridge #10

Export: Writing the Midwest


Sam E. Robinson



refreshing stink of thick green walnut hulls staining the hands

the beauty of slushy brown footprints
erasing blinding chaos
superimposed on dirty earth

tree sap
stuck to arm hairs

sitting on the back of the tractor
on the strawberry jam farm
watching rats get mangled and tossed into the bin
laughing at the label’s “all natural ingredients”

living always
one bullet away from knowing
never afraid to embark
until my son was born

i must teach him
it will be ok to hate me when i die
sometimes that is the way men heal

never losing the innate marvel of helicopter maples
of yellow dandelions and lightning bugs smeared on cheeks



the penguins are happy
waddling around
invisible strings lifting little flappy arms
tending each other with grooming pecks
waiting to eat little fishes

the penguins are angry
squirting streams of steaming feces
at the intrusive photographer

the penguins are afraid
those phantom shapes
looming beneath the surface

.              .              .

leetle penguins not be birds
leetle penguins not be fishes
tiny creatures on the surface
come and be sea lion dishes

hally hoo and yum yum blubbers
leetle morsels not have fright
           ever closer
to barking mouth delight

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