Poem for Ernest Hemingway and Jack Hirschman

I travelled the country
by way of graveyards
and back roads
the bones of outlaws
and writers
and outlaw writers
piled up in mounds
their ghosts
walking the streets
with us
hand in invisible hand
their words
giving us
a private tour
of a forgotten country
the highways
stayed as long
as the days
and the sun shined down
on Indian deserts
whose champions lay
in unmarked graves
the dark storm clouds
rained down
over the endless prairies
but their words were never
drowned out
the lakes and rivers
wrapped around us
high up into the mountains
where we twisted down
around curves
descending into a country
we never found

Jake St. John writes out of New London, CT and is the author of several collections of poetry and pamphlet poems including, Rotations (Night Ballet Press, 2015), I Talked To The Moon (Wandering Head, 2012), and Change of Address (Unarmed 2010). His work has appeared in numerous literary and arts magazines such as, The Blue Collar Review, Big Hammer, and The People’s Tribune. Since 2007 he has served as the editor of Elephant and co-editor of Flying Fish.