It's that fence line disappearing in two directions,
once into the drifting snow and then
receding inexorably toward an indistinct horizon
where the exits announce No Services;
not the eponymous city but the true empty west,
far from the film's pine-crowded Minnesota lakes:
the one true thing the Cohen brothers found,
the howling ghost that haunts the soul of Fargo.
Another revision 8-19-08. I think this one's done.
Poetry Poem New Orleans winter Fargo
Fargo
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4 comments:
I love the images. Your lines draw the eye along the fenceline and toward the desolation. Great jog.
Stopping in to say hello and read some of your work. Very deep thoughts floating around here.
Don't forget us at PWB
http://poetswhoblog.blogspot.com/2008/02/over-next-week-please-stop-in-and-visit.html
I'm visiting all members today.
One of my regrets is never getting a picture of myself posed in front of one of those No Services signs in the big empty.
Thanks to writerwoman for the kind words.
This is an excellent poem; puts me immediately back in Fargo walking along the white picket fence between the houses, and then the other direction leads me straight out into the long, lonely road to Davenport where you don't see anything for miles and miles (so it really doesn't make a difference to do that road in a blizzard, in both cases you don't see anything, heh heh ;). I also lived in Braham, MN so I flashed right over the state line to Rush Lake where my grandmother had a cottage and where I spent many hours out on the lake with her to fish. Again, thanks for evoking so many memories and truly there is a howling ghost that haunts the soul and is the soul of Fargo.
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