Skip to content

Poem

January 27, 2018

When the rain hits the snake in the head,
he closes his eyes and wishes he were
asleep in a tire on the side of the road
so young boys could roll him over, forever.

–Frank Stanford, 1971

COMMENTARY: A friend of mine got me Frank Stanford’s collected poems for “procrastinator’s Christmas”–a couple weeks ago. He was an Arkansas poet, an imagist who drew on rural, shanty-down, shotgun-&-pickup-truck, mule & cigar-store-Indian Americana. I like this poem for thinking of a snake in a tire and the very subtle rhymes of “head” and “road” and “were” and “forever.”

Advertisements
Leave a Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: