|"Flint Hills 1" by Thomas Pecore Weso|
Here is a sample poem and painting for the Runaway Pony event and chapbook. Do join us at 603 Tenn., Runaway Pony B&B.
FLINT HILLS LULLABY
“A landscape has its own spirit; it is neither dead nor alive.” Thomas Weso
My grandparents still live here.They exist in grasses confused by western trade winds.
Even before they died they were ghosts.Their lungs whooshed air of winter and summer storms.
The land is neither dead nor living but somethingelse. A third property. More.
White strata collapse into ruins at their moments of creation.Processions of thunderheads tumble through empty counties.
I am alone here and I am caught in lay lines of gravity.This is my birth and death, my continuum beyond names.
When space colors this place, that dark-moon hue of void,may all our bones lie together, at rest in the dark.