poem: wyoming

I jumped -- and the mountain was betweenmy legs. the snowy western town wound around, like aniron snake, into my skin. you cannot make your past, your scarsinto a personality. you cannot. I had my hair undone andloose around my ears; the tight jeans, the leatherboots, the wool coat. ninety-dollar plaidscarf. an old man stared… Continue reading poem: wyoming

poem: western montana

my mother birthed me into stranger places -- the mountains shornand shot up, as if Ithere, was one of them: too-big blue sky fit like a salt-block into my open mouth, deer- and oxen-child. if I had been born into a city, the masturbatory smoke andskyscrapers cut up around me, think -- what a little… Continue reading poem: western montana