not really

 

sam peckinpah's

typewriter

rusted

smashed flat

the keys

mangled

maybe from

the words

or maybe

from a fire

john macker

has it laid

out across a

slab of rock

on the boulder

scattered floor

of a field

beyond his

house i'd

like to think

it belonged

to an outlaw

poet who

knew d a

levy or jack

micheline &

was typing

a poem

when his

trailer blew

scorched

bones

scattered

across scrub

cactus &

all the

burnt stones

 

Todd Moore

 

 

(photo by JB)