mmmcccxcii

my point is

     weaponized emphasis
        —Anselm Berrigan

to which i say
huzzah and
why not and
we’re poets
aren’t we?
line the
words up
until they
are worthy
of a post.
as a child,
for example,
i would have to
help my dad on
weekends build
fences. around
pastures. so, rath
er than spend a sat
urday reading tolk
ien, let’s say, or
stephen king, just
to toss out a coup

le of faves from 

my youth, i’d be
stuck in the
sweltering
heat some
where mid
dle of no
where
digging
postholes.
building
fences.
barbed
wire so
the cows
won’t get
out, and
so as to
deter prob
lematic animals
from getting in, i
suppose, although
that didn’t stop
most. also,
and let’s
be honest
here, a fence
is a way to announce
to whomever might
happen along that
this is not yours,
it’s mine, stay
away, keep
out. no need
for any sign, esp
ecially considering
the fences my dad
built. and it’s gonna
be mine for a while
is basically what
one of dad’s past
ure fences would
seem to almost
say. in arkansas
history class, i
remember the
sing-songy rote
way the teacher
(he was also a
football coach,
but he was a
terrific history
teacher) taught
us to say the
native american
tribes that lived
in our state before
it was settled,
before it was
“discovered”
by ponce de
leon, who was
looking for the
fountain of
youth, so
we were
taught,
and, of
course
made
his way
north and
into what’d
become the
united state
in which i
grew up
because
there
were
rumors
about a
healing
hot spring.
anyway,
choctaw,
chickasaw,
cherokee,
creek, and
sometimes
sioux. i
remember
that. or
that’s how
i remember it.
also that, years
after i left arkansas
for what i assumed
correctly would be
the fabulous places
in the beyond, that
the coach was with
his wife and kids
in a car traveling
home from some
where and a drunk
driver hit their car,
killing the coach’s wife 

and kids. perhaps i’m
remembering it a
bit incorrectly,
but he lost his
wife and child
or children,
maybe she
was pregnant.
i really enjoyed
arkansas history
class, and i had
no expectation
that would be
the case. quite
the opposite.
and social
studies, which
always gave me
the worst grades.
but when the coach
was teaching, i got
really into it. choctaw,
chickasaw, cherokee,
creek, and sometimes
sioux. that is exactly
all that i can recall
from spending an
entire year?
semester?
studying ark
ansas history.
if i had a
point,
what
might
it poss
ibly be?
that all
day long
i’ve been
either sleep
ing or thinking
about poetry?
that i’m late
for dinner?
that i’m
in love?
that i
miss
my
dad?
that i
read a
lot of
science
fiction
when i
was in my
youth? that
i can no longer
watch a horror
movie, no mat
ter how much
i want to? is
that true? that

everything i

thought i knew

as truth was 

incorrect? i
suppose there are
ways one might get

some real answers.