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At the Pawnee National Grasslands, a poem by George Kalamaras



At the Pawnee National Grasslands

Colorado Eastern Plains


The only sound out here

is wind pouring through wind.


This is where the sun and moon

scrape into one another and blur.


The Chalk Bluffs. Buttes seemingly rise

            out of their own stone coffins.


Mice bone cracks

            the mouths of owls.


The world of the dead collides

            with the world of the dead.


Hammerblows of wind pummel the dusk,

            batter the buffeting at my feet.


The buffalo grass keeps bending

            toward me, ploughing, pleading,


knowing it must go on, certain it will

            one day get in. Get into me and through.





George Kalamaras served as Poet Laureate of Indiana in 2014 and 2015. He is the author of twenty-four collections of poetry (fifteen full-length books and nine chapbooks). One of his recent books, To Sleep in the Horse’s Belly: My Greek Poets and the Aegean Inside Me (Dos Madres Press, 2023), just received the Indiana Poetry Book Award for the two-year period 2022–2023. He is Professor Emeritus of English at Purdue University Fort Wayne, where he taught for thirty-two years.