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The Poetry Quarter
(Fall 2023)
Adrianne Lenker from the band Big Thief visits Nebraska for the Maha Music Festival
Saddle Creek
Arriving in Omaha, Adrianne
Drove straight to Sgt. Peffer's
Italian Restaurant for dinner.
After passing from
Cuming Street to
Radial Highway, the
GPS asker her to turn
On North Saddle Creek Road.
She remembered how
Exciting it had been
To sign with Saddle Creek
Records for those early
albums. It felt so strange now
To drive on a road whose
Name had been so
Seamlessly stolen. Thinking
Before ordering, she decided
That it probably made as
Much sense as naming a
Pizza THE FAB FOUR
[My best guess is that
John is the artichokes
Paul the ham/prosciutto
George the marinated mushrooms
And Ringo the olives].
Besides, with staff in Omaha,
Los Angeles, and Seattle
She knew that hardly anyone
She had ever worked with
At Saddle Creek Records
Had ever sat down in
Sgt. Peffers’ flimsy plastic chairs
Or crossed the street to the old bar
With champagne on tap or
Played in the nearby park
While waiting for their
Dad to get off from work.
She wondered whether
Anyone in Nebraska cared
(Or even knew) what record label
Big Thief was or wasn’t on anymore
--Or maybe even whether
Anyone was mad that
They had moved on up to a
Bigger and more storied
Label [like when PepperJax Grill
Moved their headquarters to Denver
Like a bunch of fucking traitors].
Then the pizza arrived
And pulled her focus
Back where it needed
To be.
Omaha, NE
Stopping at Wohlners
For blackberries, Adrianne
Noticed that the berries
Cost fifty cents less
Than when she had been
In Chicago a few weeks before.
Adrianne remembered
A friend of some acquaintance
Cornering her at a party
And complaining about
A news story he'd seen
Of and old woman
Physically attacking a
Shoplifter, shouting that he
Was raising prices for everyone else.
He said that this is
State run news at its finest,
A state for and by big money,
That is! The rich telling us poors
To fight each other in the
Aisles of Walmart all to hide
Who was really stealing from us
Every single day! You know
all of this inflation money
is going right into the CEO's
pockets! She had seen the
stats that showed he was
right, but was more than happy
To tune him out after that.
She had run out of that specific
Patience we hold for those
Shouting things we probably
Kind of agree with
and as such worry
We should give slightly more
Kindness than the other
Rude people we meet
Who talk to us
like fucking idiots.
Checking out at the store,
Adrianne spent the change
She'd saved on blackberries
On a caramel chew. Enjoying her
Surprise sweet, she wondered
Whether this is what people mean
When they call mid-sized cities
More liveable.
I-80
Driving from Omaha to Lincoln,
Adrianne passed a barn
With a large sign that said
In red, unadorned letters
TRUMP.
My little brother
In the passenger's seat
Asked, "Do you remember
What that sign used to say?"
Having driven
Across the country
Enough times to ware
Ruts into stone like those
Trails west of the Sandhills
carved by wagon after wagon
Treading towards the west coast--
Adrianne couldn't remember what
She had seen where anymore.
Somewhere west of home,
She remembered seeing
Bootleg Trump posters--
Navy and Maroon signs
Squeezing the man’s
Bolded sans serif name
Between two white stars--
Stapled on about a hundred
Trees facing the interstate.
With no uniform height or
Angle or ratio of signs
To tree, it really felt like
Watching the forest
Break out in hives.
She remembered imagining
The time that art piece
Must have taken
And how much she wished
That someone could have put
That sort of enthusiasm into
Promoting Big Thief when
They first started carving
Their ruts chasing dates
Around the United States.
"Oh," my brother replied
To the silence that met
His rhetorical question,
"It used to say JESUS."
Lincoln, NE
While in Nebraska
Adrianne decided to visit
Memorial stadium
For a very sexy football game
Between the Cornhuskers
And those blasted Wildcats.
After clawing their way back
From an early deficit
The Husker clinched a win
With a buzzer beater
Hail Mary caught
In the well manicured
End zone.
Adrianne jumped up
In excitement and--
Seeing the Governor
Across the aisle--
Offered him a
Congratulatory high five.
The governor waited
For a moment, expecting
Some sunglassed bodyguard
To tackle the dungareed queer
And drag it away. But
After a few seconds he
Realized he would have to
Deal with it himself;
High-fiving the renowned
Songwriter and wondering
Whether he had enough
Of his sugar daddy’s
daddy's money left
In the campaign coffers
To buy one of those
Tough guys he'd seen
In the movies.
Saline County, NE
A little South of Lincoln
And somewhere in my
Grandma's front yard, Adrianne
Heard a firework explode
Outside of its designated day.
She watched in awe
As my uncle went into his mind
Palace--a mental map of
The small town--listing
The folks living in every house
Down the two or three roads
In the general direction of
The unexpected pyrotechnics.
[He rested his blame on
A home with a teen who
Is nice but a bit all over
The place, sometimes.]
Adrianne said this was
The sort of knowledge
She knows people still grow
In small towns, but it is
Always exciting to see it in action.
But my uncle doesn't
Live in that small town.
He just lives nearby
And visits often
And is a genius.
Alliance, NE
Further west and even
farther from the airport
Adrianne stopped at
Carhenge--a recreation
of Stonehenge made out
of cars. She remembered
visiting the stone companion
when she first toured
the United Kingdom. She
remembered watching
a bus full of Italian teens
flirt and bustle and take
pictures with the famous
background. She remembered
walking down the same path
as the druids who once
called the place home
and finding it hard to connect;
hard to force that sort of
epiphanic moment. She
was too taken by the grass
below her feet, the sheep
in the distance, and the
Italian teens replacing
the silence of dead architects
with laughter and shouting.
Taking out her phone for a
picture, Adrianne couldn't
help but think that this
American monument
was almost more impressive
because this one was made
out of cars. And that was
pretty weird.
South Dakota
Tasting the border, Adrianne
Saw a chance to escape
For a little foreign fun
In a whole new state.
Driving up to South Dakota, she
crossed the dull political
Boundary between the states
When no one was looking--
Easy enough on the quiet
Highway. Driving through the
Badlands, she said that it was
Almost like touring the moon and
Wondered what it would be like
To walk for days or months
Through high grass and rolling hills
Only to find these jagged peaks
And violent stones. "Well,' my friend
Said from the passenger seat,
"They did call it the Badlands."
Adrianne asked who "they" were
And everyone looked out the window
Quietly. Driving another two hours
North to Spearfish Canyon, everyone
Took turns playing longer and
Longer songs. The canyon was
The best thing she had ever seen,
So they drove up and down
Three times before coming home.
What a nifty place to store a road!
On the way back, Adrianne
Didn't even notice crossing
Into Nebraska. Same stolen land,
Different shitty Senators.
Wood River, NE
Driving to arrive
In Omaha before the
Maha music festival,
Adrianne saw a sign
Somewhere between
Kerney and Grand Island
That announced a
CRANE TRUST. She
Pulled in only to find that
The cranes were gone,
Only deigning to visit
Twice a year. They fly
South and then North again
And frankly barely even
Visit on their trip back
In fall. Cranes always
Reminded Adrianne of
Mary Oliver's poems
Where she talks about
Wanting to be an animal;
Whip her head around
And kick at the tall grass.
Some days, surrounded
By friends and music
And comfy jackets over
Cut off shirts, Adrianne
Really wondered how
Many people in any state
[So why not Nebraska?]
Have ever felt this close
To a human crane.
But still,
conversely,
She wondered why
--stepping out
Of her car
And walking
In the tall grass--
She still didn't
Feel quite
free.
Epilogue
Somewhere out there
Is a God who loves me
And leaves me
Anxious and depressed and
Trying not to kill myself.
And this God who loves me
So fully yet so poorly
Loves so many
Of my friends
Just the same.
But there is nothing
We receive that we do not
Receive from God. And so as
Adrianne took the stage
To make a beautiful sound
For our Lord, I wonder whether
The angels dancing above
For just a moment
Felt a little less alone
And thanked their
Cold Father.
Arriving in Omaha, Adrianne
Drove straight to Sgt. Peffer's
Italian Restaurant for dinner.
After passing from
Cuming Street to
Radial Highway, the
GPS asker her to turn
On North Saddle Creek Road.
She remembered how
Exciting it had been
To sign with Saddle Creek
Records for those early
albums. It felt so strange now
To drive on a road whose
Name had been so
Seamlessly stolen. Thinking
Before ordering, she decided
That it probably made as
Much sense as naming a
Pizza THE FAB FOUR
[My best guess is that
John is the artichokes
Paul the ham/prosciutto
George the marinated mushrooms
And Ringo the olives].
Besides, with staff in Omaha,
Los Angeles, and Seattle
She knew that hardly anyone
She had ever worked with
At Saddle Creek Records
Had ever sat down in
Sgt. Peffers’ flimsy plastic chairs
Or crossed the street to the old bar
With champagne on tap or
Played in the nearby park
While waiting for their
Dad to get off from work.
She wondered whether
Anyone in Nebraska cared
(Or even knew) what record label
Big Thief was or wasn’t on anymore
--Or maybe even whether
Anyone was mad that
They had moved on up to a
Bigger and more storied
Label [like when PepperJax Grill
Moved their headquarters to Denver
Like a bunch of fucking traitors].
Then the pizza arrived
And pulled her focus
Back where it needed
To be.
Omaha, NE
Stopping at Wohlners
For blackberries, Adrianne
Noticed that the berries
Cost fifty cents less
Than when she had been
In Chicago a few weeks before.
Adrianne remembered
A friend of some acquaintance
Cornering her at a party
And complaining about
A news story he'd seen
Of and old woman
Physically attacking a
Shoplifter, shouting that he
Was raising prices for everyone else.
He said that this is
State run news at its finest,
A state for and by big money,
That is! The rich telling us poors
To fight each other in the
Aisles of Walmart all to hide
Who was really stealing from us
Every single day! You know
all of this inflation money
is going right into the CEO's
pockets! She had seen the
stats that showed he was
right, but was more than happy
To tune him out after that.
She had run out of that specific
Patience we hold for those
Shouting things we probably
Kind of agree with
and as such worry
We should give slightly more
Kindness than the other
Rude people we meet
Who talk to us
like fucking idiots.
Checking out at the store,
Adrianne spent the change
She'd saved on blackberries
On a caramel chew. Enjoying her
Surprise sweet, she wondered
Whether this is what people mean
When they call mid-sized cities
More liveable.
I-80
Driving from Omaha to Lincoln,
Adrianne passed a barn
With a large sign that said
In red, unadorned letters
TRUMP.
My little brother
In the passenger's seat
Asked, "Do you remember
What that sign used to say?"
Having driven
Across the country
Enough times to ware
Ruts into stone like those
Trails west of the Sandhills
carved by wagon after wagon
Treading towards the west coast--
Adrianne couldn't remember what
She had seen where anymore.
Somewhere west of home,
She remembered seeing
Bootleg Trump posters--
Navy and Maroon signs
Squeezing the man’s
Bolded sans serif name
Between two white stars--
Stapled on about a hundred
Trees facing the interstate.
With no uniform height or
Angle or ratio of signs
To tree, it really felt like
Watching the forest
Break out in hives.
She remembered imagining
The time that art piece
Must have taken
And how much she wished
That someone could have put
That sort of enthusiasm into
Promoting Big Thief when
They first started carving
Their ruts chasing dates
Around the United States.
"Oh," my brother replied
To the silence that met
His rhetorical question,
"It used to say JESUS."
Lincoln, NE
While in Nebraska
Adrianne decided to visit
Memorial stadium
For a very sexy football game
Between the Cornhuskers
And those blasted Wildcats.
After clawing their way back
From an early deficit
The Husker clinched a win
With a buzzer beater
Hail Mary caught
In the well manicured
End zone.
Adrianne jumped up
In excitement and--
Seeing the Governor
Across the aisle--
Offered him a
Congratulatory high five.
The governor waited
For a moment, expecting
Some sunglassed bodyguard
To tackle the dungareed queer
And drag it away. But
After a few seconds he
Realized he would have to
Deal with it himself;
High-fiving the renowned
Songwriter and wondering
Whether he had enough
Of his sugar daddy’s
daddy's money left
In the campaign coffers
To buy one of those
Tough guys he'd seen
In the movies.
Saline County, NE
A little South of Lincoln
And somewhere in my
Grandma's front yard, Adrianne
Heard a firework explode
Outside of its designated day.
She watched in awe
As my uncle went into his mind
Palace--a mental map of
The small town--listing
The folks living in every house
Down the two or three roads
In the general direction of
The unexpected pyrotechnics.
[He rested his blame on
A home with a teen who
Is nice but a bit all over
The place, sometimes.]
Adrianne said this was
The sort of knowledge
She knows people still grow
In small towns, but it is
Always exciting to see it in action.
But my uncle doesn't
Live in that small town.
He just lives nearby
And visits often
And is a genius.
Alliance, NE
Further west and even
farther from the airport
Adrianne stopped at
Carhenge--a recreation
of Stonehenge made out
of cars. She remembered
visiting the stone companion
when she first toured
the United Kingdom. She
remembered watching
a bus full of Italian teens
flirt and bustle and take
pictures with the famous
background. She remembered
walking down the same path
as the druids who once
called the place home
and finding it hard to connect;
hard to force that sort of
epiphanic moment. She
was too taken by the grass
below her feet, the sheep
in the distance, and the
Italian teens replacing
the silence of dead architects
with laughter and shouting.
Taking out her phone for a
picture, Adrianne couldn't
help but think that this
American monument
was almost more impressive
because this one was made
out of cars. And that was
pretty weird.
South Dakota
Tasting the border, Adrianne
Saw a chance to escape
For a little foreign fun
In a whole new state.
Driving up to South Dakota, she
crossed the dull political
Boundary between the states
When no one was looking--
Easy enough on the quiet
Highway. Driving through the
Badlands, she said that it was
Almost like touring the moon and
Wondered what it would be like
To walk for days or months
Through high grass and rolling hills
Only to find these jagged peaks
And violent stones. "Well,' my friend
Said from the passenger seat,
"They did call it the Badlands."
Adrianne asked who "they" were
And everyone looked out the window
Quietly. Driving another two hours
North to Spearfish Canyon, everyone
Took turns playing longer and
Longer songs. The canyon was
The best thing she had ever seen,
So they drove up and down
Three times before coming home.
What a nifty place to store a road!
On the way back, Adrianne
Didn't even notice crossing
Into Nebraska. Same stolen land,
Different shitty Senators.
Wood River, NE
Driving to arrive
In Omaha before the
Maha music festival,
Adrianne saw a sign
Somewhere between
Kerney and Grand Island
That announced a
CRANE TRUST. She
Pulled in only to find that
The cranes were gone,
Only deigning to visit
Twice a year. They fly
South and then North again
And frankly barely even
Visit on their trip back
In fall. Cranes always
Reminded Adrianne of
Mary Oliver's poems
Where she talks about
Wanting to be an animal;
Whip her head around
And kick at the tall grass.
Some days, surrounded
By friends and music
And comfy jackets over
Cut off shirts, Adrianne
Really wondered how
Many people in any state
[So why not Nebraska?]
Have ever felt this close
To a human crane.
But still,
conversely,
She wondered why
--stepping out
Of her car
And walking
In the tall grass--
She still didn't
Feel quite
free.
Epilogue
Somewhere out there
Is a God who loves me
And leaves me
Anxious and depressed and
Trying not to kill myself.
And this God who loves me
So fully yet so poorly
Loves so many
Of my friends
Just the same.
But there is nothing
We receive that we do not
Receive from God. And so as
Adrianne took the stage
To make a beautiful sound
For our Lord, I wonder whether
The angels dancing above
For just a moment
Felt a little less alone
And thanked their
Cold Father.
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