May 19 13 by Published in: Featured Poets No comments yet

Marla Kipp believes if you were ever a poet, you are always a poet; words run through your veins, images pirouette before your eyes, and ideas whisper from the edges of your mind. She’s building muscle to wrestle those word-picture-thoughts onto paper. She was Editor of Hinge literary journal and  has been featured in the annual Spoken Word Festival.


You’d think the asphalt buried in my knee–


Would serve as Braille reminder to me

Every time my fingers brush by

They urge me to heed this warning:

Do not answer distraction’s calling

But I’m still looking at the stars

…and falling


I can’t tell you how many turns I’ve missed

By writing poems in my head

Perish the thought if unrehearsed–

Yet when driving my reactions become averse

You’d think those close calls would be unnerving

But I’m still talking to myself

…and swerving


It’s a tough decision I never made

To think with my heart and not


But I’d rather veer off course

Than feel remorse about skies and

poems unrealized

Distraction’s voice is so enthralling

That I’ll keep looking at the stars

…and falling


North Dakota

Under star-crossed skies

North Dakota lies

Stretches, groans, and sighs


No time to board the windows

before the last train

out of town

Leaving behind a monument,

a manifest testimony

of hand-to-mouth


The bank-turned-bar is

open all night,

but the floorboards

might give way

The vault, slack-jawed

while the liquor flowed,

yearns for community

these days


One big breath in, in, in

and then the land went flat,

the pulse began to slow

But the sun pulled itself

back into the sky

and, untended,

a wheat field grows

Used by permission of Marla Kipp. Copyright 2013.


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