Compelled to push
my point through microphones,
I ached for a name
unanchored to my father’s farm.
Ten years older
than he ever was, now I amble
the fields and back
road that bears our name.
Pulling food from an open
wound in the earth,
pouring concrete to build a home upon,
and loving a woman
who’s still and waiting for an echo
of hello, this is no life
to run reckless from.
No one will insert this song
covered in corn dust and bailing
twine into the beaks
of birds that break open world
news and the falling of states.
*
Jason Braun holds master’s degrees in English and Educational Technology. He has taught English or designed courses for various universities full-time for the better part of a decade. He has published fiction, poetry, reported or been featured in The Riverfont Times, Prime Number, ESPN.com, Big Bridge, The Evergreen Review, SOFTBLOW, The Nashville City Paper, Jane Friedman’s blog, The Chronicle of Higher Education, and many more.
Jason Braun recommends “Coffee” by Richard Brautigan.
