Hokusai in Iowa by Dan Campion

          I no longer remember I am here      there being no mountain and I at its foot           reading the sea-level poems about me     to Grant Wood whose denim bib rustles like a skiff’s sail           perhaps waves in dirt and tassels      really are like waves of the sea so long as we do not think about           whoseContinue reading “Hokusai in Iowa by Dan Campion”