Vox Populi
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Rick Campbell: James Dickey Said
You have the hands of a piano player and I said, yes, I play harmonica. He laughed, said of course, and moved on through the reception. In a Laramie bar by the railroad tracks our band played nights under a sky wide and high, stars shining like a score on the black sheets of heaven. My hands fluttered, measured the air it takes to bend a note into the blue night stars. There was no piano player but when a freight rumbled through the band left me to play wheels on the tracks and a whistle lost in the mountains west.
Rick Campbell is a poet and essayist living on Alligator Point, Florida. His latest collections of poems are Gunshot, Peacock, Dog. (Madville Publishing, 2018) and Provenance (Blue Horse, 2020).
Copyright © 2020 by Rick Campbell. Included in Vox Populi by permission of the author and Blue Horse Press.
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Love this. Thanks, Michael Simms
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I can hear that lonely wail of the blues harp.
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I like this one a whole lot! Such nostalgia, such economy of words, yet how much noise the poems makes!
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thanks, Mike
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Thank YOU, Rick. Your poetry is a gift to the world.
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