Stark Daybreaks
By: Gerald Wagoner
As a child I was at liberty to roam until
we drove through a dry Montana blizzard
into wind scoured wheat fields where oil
derricks stood as lonely as guard towers.
We drove through long Montana blizzards.
Blind cattle, we plodded east, past lights
grim as guard towers, dim in the night,
hunted stark daybreaks sharp as knives.
Blind cattle, we plod east past star lights
from tiny towns warped in cat black ridges.
We hunt stark daybreaks, with sharp knives.
Nodding pumps suck thick, rich crude, up
from tiny towns trapped by black flat ledges.
Wind swirls naked snow in stubble straw.
Nodding pumps suck thick, rich crude, up.
A tiny town bores deep against its heart.
Wind swirls naked snow in stubble straw.
As a child I was at liberty to roam until
a tiny town bored deep against its heart,
with dark derricks in wind scoured fields.
Gerald Wagoner’s childhood was divided between Eastern Oregon and Montana where he was raised under the doctrine of benign neglect. With a BA in Creative Writing, Gerald pursued the art of sculpture, and eventually left the Northwest to study. He earned an MFA in sculpture from SUNY Albany, and moved to Brooklyn, NY in 1982. Gerald exhibited regularly and taught Art and English for the NYC Department of Education.
He is currently finalizing his forthcoming chapbooks; A Month of Someday, (Indolent Books 2022) and When Nothing Wild Remains, (Broadstone Books 2023)
2018: Visiting Poet Residency Brooklyn Navy Yard. 2019. Poet in Residence Gowanus Dredgers Canoe Club Boathouse, 2021 & 2022: Cu-rator and Host of, A Persistence of Cormorants, a summer outdoors reading series. Selected Publications: Beltway Quarterly, BigCityLit, Blue Mountain Review, Cathexis Northwest Press, Coffin Bell, The Helix Literary Magazine, J-Journal, The Lake, Maryland Review, Night Heron Barks, Ocotillo Review, Right Hand Pointing, Shot Glass, Umbrella Factory Magazine.