Tag Archives: Linda M. Hasselstrom

Dear Linda, I think of you driving nights
between snow banks, long distances
between farm house lights and little
towns flickering ahead – I think of resolve
to turn a word to fit the truth, hard facts
that wear the heart smooth and bodies out.
I think of you peering under the corral boards,
the love and fear of it, graphic words
jumping off your tongue on their own.
We could make a movie together, gray
reflections in the middle of nowhere,
turning the barnyard upside down
for another look at the world, another
look at why we’re here, at why a life
without some small purpose beyond ourselves –
a waste of time and flesh – better fertilizer
on the prairie to be blown to another place.
Meet you in Elko to read some poetry –
separated by soothing melodies, the cloak
of the old songs, guitars and accordion
to keep us warm. Looking forward, John.