A poem from the collection On Driftwood and Oblivion Ghost Dance nerves for blackened steelSpotted Elk lay deadNo slow drum beat for each shotA mass grave instead. The Buffalo GhostEver roaming barren plainsLife’s endless outpost. […]
A poem from the collection On Driftwood and Oblivion Ghost Dance nerves for blackened steelSpotted Elk lay deadNo slow drum beat for each shotA mass grave instead. The Buffalo GhostEver roaming barren plainsLife’s endless outpost. […]