Crossing the Prairie
It wouldn't be fair to say I saw nothing.
I saw endless miles of fallow fields.
I followed the Elkhorn and crossed
The Platte, that wide and shallow,
Storied river, twice. I passed silos,
And windbreaks, and old farmers'
Houses, and palaces put up by
Entrepreneurs. I went through
A small town that's turning quite
Precious. Mostly, though, yes,
I drove through the tabletop
Emptiness anyone else would call
Nothing. That's what I had wanted
To see.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 49 times
Written on 2022-04-13 at 22:21
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