Tag Archives: Susan Doble Kaluza

Ode to the Black Paso Fino Gelding in an Oklahoma Killpen

before the discovery of an ancient plant, said to emit the lowest B flat ever recorded, the sound waves generated from the Black Hole were the deepest musical notes ever detected from an object in the Universe; it was the … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | 2 Comments

A Life

Take his hair, for example. What once was dark and commanding, easily combed and molded into a pompadour now lies as flat as native grass, as soft and windswept, as white as the hoar frost that hugs the lip of … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Wreck in Wolf Creek Canyon

I imagine him a teacher—math perhaps— late 40s, enjoying one last run from polygons and geometric solids, admiring the handsome angles of his black Ducati as it swallows the yellow lines. I ponder these things while a man leaning drunkenly … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Wings

He’s fine with us going to KFC for lunch. He’s 83. Yeah, he’d like some wings. I like how he turns the bones and examines the threads of meat, how his exasperation, his deliberate noisiness while chewing tells me he’s … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

On a day off I decide to YouTube Bob Dylan

And his voice, its nasally rasp, takes me back to my college dorm where I vowed my love to his lips and their unstruck chords, their half-parted, artful curve that defied description despite my nightly wine-drinking dances with adjectives to … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | 2 Comments

Bridal Shower

I can’t say for sure it was the bucket of Cosmopolitan mix that kept me from disappearing behind the Fica and the cramped arrangement of folding chairs, but I can tell you I was leery of the Avon ladies with … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment