I've been away for the last week, visiting my in-laws in Kansas. My husband and I decided to drive from Santa Fe to where his sister lives in Independence, Missouri, along the Santa Fe Trail. This little trek provided many occasions for us to stop and smell the indifference to poetry. I was able to add six pictures to Reading Poetry to Animals and Things Who Don't Care.
Reading poetry to the Santa Fe Trail outside of Clayton, New Mexico. Wagon train traffic, art thou so loud this trail cannot hear me? (2012, photo by John McCray)
Reading poetry to the beautiful Kansas grass outside of Fort Larned on the Santa Fe Trail. When the wind blew, the grass whispered "husssssh…silly poetess." (2012, photo by John McCray)
Reading poetry to fake soldiers outside of Fort Larned, Kansas. I tried to tell them I had the latest Walt Whitman fresh off the presses. They did not seem to care. (2012, photo by John McCray)
Reading poetry to a sod house in Kansas. Although my poetry was as dense as a mud brick, this house of earth could not relate. (2012, photo by John McCray)
Still reading poetry to a sod house in Kansas. Come on, sod house! You have to admit that line from W.H. Auden was pretty funny. (2012, photo by John McCray)
Reading poetry to one of the whirling fellows on a windmill farm. Although the blades say "I'm excited about the truths you're laying down," this reader does not believe that windmill will make any serious literary changes in his life going forward. (2012, photo by John McCray)
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