THE GOODA Poem by VolThe thing about that summer was the long walks along the isolated country roads of Wisconsin. The everything green tinged with blue… Pristine barns decorated the countryside and dairy herds colored the air. Tinny rock and roll poured from the transistor radio in my shirt pocket, and painted my bones with permanent ink. An old bridge crossed a deep stream shaded by maples and oaks. We lingered there while brown trout whoshed their tails between dapples in the calm water, waiting for another mayfly. And that’s what I remember even more than the desire you lit in my furnace and still burns through the rest of everything I ever did. When I look around for what that means, hear the people created there speak to me, hear them cry, watch them fall and rise again... My people, who paint with words, and effortless movement of dance, who love from their skin down to the splitting of soul and spirit, I want to return there, and stay to the end. © 2025 VolFeatured Review
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8 Reviews Added on January 19, 2025 Last Updated on January 19, 2025 AuthorVolGouge Eye, TXAboutMy name is Vol Lindsey. I live in Gouge Eye, Texas, a tiny ghost town on Rt. 66. I am a retired creative writing, English literature teacher. I have been writing poetry and reading publicly since 196.. more..Writing
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