One supposes something should be said
about these rows of earthen posts–
stones only in composition, stretching sandstone-yellow red
as far as wire strands will lead them, hosts
along some prairie pasture, or down deserted tractor lanes,
hunkered up against the snow and wind, lost
out in fields of swishing grain,
not rock or post to the untrained eye,
rather an innuendo of both; the plain
truth is how alone the sky
can set them off the best.
After a rain perhaps, their rich brown dye
infests the air around them as if to test
the theories of application. Whoever thought
that quarried limestone could bless
this flattened landscape, then wrought
stones from the earth and fought them–
each a squarish, irregular gem–into place . . .
his mark the winds have not erased.
Jeff and I met last summer while I was doing a show here in Kansas City, and we had a great conversation about art, literature and the Kansas Flint Hills. Thank you Jeff for sharing your work with us – it is beautiful.
Have you seen post rocks? Are they used anywhere besides Kansas?