Skip to content

Log Out

×

A Song on Geronimo’s Grave

By John Blair Poetry

The sun, the darkness, the winds are listening…. —Geronimo, Chief of the Bedonkohe Apache   Boys, I shit you not, it’s Oklahoma, Billy says, the Red River more red than river squatted under the border bridge like the raw ass-end of Mars, dry skin peeled under the flying rubber of Billy’s bald tires. As I drive…

Read More

Receive ImageUpdate, our free weekly newsletter featuring the best from Image and the world of arts & faith

* indicates required