THE STEGER Prize For Poetry
A Letter to the Frontier, From the Tower
by Joselyn Takacs
Dearest Traveler,
chasing spring out
west with thin, knobby fingers
grasping green flower stems
can you hear
the light snapping of roots
like the muffled melody
of plucking guitar strings
in the soil
you write,
damn, this is serious
and meet split-end runaways
tossing quotes by
nietzsche against the sides
of duck taped volkswagon
vans
oh please, please do leave some
flowers for the rest of us
or leave a trail. at least
there are no maps for peace of mind
anymore
with a sleeve of paper braced
against a knee
you say,
promise i'll see you again
when you're ready
come out west
when you can
you'll be forever twenty-three
for me
spread across the country
feet on east
head in west
hands somewhere in between
here's to the frontier,
to the future in a van on western roads,
to empty pockets and alight buzz,
to a beatnik with a kiss, you dearest traveler
you're stunning'
knobby fingered
swollen stomached
scattered brilliant
damn, this is serious
leave a trail
Yours,
The Tower (under your rubber soles)
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