prairie

my teeth caked with little bluestem and café au lait is a face plant in a dream. effigy of mommy with her walker behind in the wake of swaying grass erased between us. she shrinks below studies with each stride. insistent as lyric. carbon she’ll disappear in like all my forebears. i can’t chart this blurred light but recognize there might be resolve in the offing. or the promise of glimpsing beyond optics to real sweetness. the sky reflects this stretch but closes fast with weather. i’m safe within my protocol suite enabling a fast response: mouth guard. kneepads. ergonomic helmet. but lost in the nature of range finding. overstepping the open steppe from long ago. undermining forms of containment with body. heat. circular breath. to transgress rules by speaking of reprieve. to move from forlorn to relishing among small uncertain marvels loyal to deferred ephemera. spurred by diffidence. rocococity. wished expressions in the manner of a twilit postcard. i thought this was happening in real time. reaching for the invitation to plume. jonesing for cypriot carryout and netherlandish art. or the rapture after drinking from a poisoned cup. maybe i’m hindered by layered broths. forged aromatics. to believe down ballot races will save me. tarrying with sampling. what lingers in superscript according to the old grammarians—their flattened interiors and reduced patterns that can still deliver the news. seems like a frolic zone of deep brine afloat with objects composing separately from me. glitter freckles. bell jars. notes several octaves below C. despite my diluvian insides, i stay dry. paddle through a possibility of completely lacking meaning on the far shore of this likeness. noting fresh entelechy with all the steam built into a hat. receding toward a cusp. landing on essence. about to be my new favorite thing.

Ken Taylor lives in Chicago and is the author of eight published works and three plays. His most recent books are found poem(s) with Ed Roberson (Corbett vs. Dempsey, 2024), featuring photography by Ken and poems by Ed, and 57 wyomings (Black Square Editions, 2026). He is the founding editor and publisher of selva oscura press.