Earhart & O’Keefe

Processed with Rookie
Illustration by Kristine Mar.


The moon is fine

it’s the stars I’m worried about,

in stagnant constellation,

waiting for their cores to collapse.


I want to sprint clear across the country,

steer a Ford truck through deep winters,

fly a steel rig clear across the Atlantic,

to blow hot wind through fear like

eight hundred paper tigers.



I am itching to move,

it’s making me brave.


A broken compass, I think of her,

lost to islands in blue


on the run


watching the world ripped apart





Georgia O’Keefe


You have spent your life a pineapple bud

sprung out from the badlands.


Last night I dreamt you were a cow’s skull

breathing heavy across stiff landscapes,

painting my hands thick,

into new geometries.


In the heatdark swallows

we waited for mountain lions

gray great and hungry.


You handed me things:

a knife,




We ate the dark of it

the smell of earth,


the taste of dirt exploded to blossom.


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