If You Give a Government Trapper a Roadkill Armadillo
If you give a government trapper /
a roadkill armadillo, /
he’s likely to take it home.
If you give a government trapper /
a roadkill armadillo, /
he’s likely to take it home.
Somewhere along Highway 395 In the pasture over west— when cottonwood shimmer fills the air the lizard in me wants
Shot with a 7mm—mistaken for a bear— he nearly bled to death, slamming through potholes in the hunter’s front seat
It takes a primal prairie
need, a kinship with Old Man Winter, with Napi
hunkering in sunless gulches, a longing
for short Fourth of July parades, the bestkept-
secret-café with a waitress
who commutes 50 miles from Malta—
big city with its 5 p.m. rush
Against a backdrop of blue heaven and mesas hot as blacksmiths’ anvils, still stunned by the musk of men who
Donald Mace Williams from WOLFE Tha com of more under misthleoþum Grendel gongan, Godes yrre bær. —Beowulf When