Ted Kooser reads "So This Is Nebraska"

Ted Kooser Author

08/07/2014 Added

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"I wrote this poem - Bill Kloefkorn, the state poet was on his way out to Grand Island [Nebraska] one time for a writing engagement out there. And I was sort of resentful that I hadn't been invited. I thought I'd go home and write a real snotty poem about Nebraska, and have Bill read it out there in my absence. And I got home and started to work on the poem, and as the poem developed, I began to understand how much I really loved the state. This is that poem: So This Is Nebraska."

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[00:00:00.200]I wrote this poem
[00:00:01.368]Bill Kloefkorn, the state poet, was
[00:00:03.259]on his way out to Grand Island one time
[00:00:05.348]to visit - for a writing engagement out there
[00:00:07.867]and I was sort of resentful
[00:00:09.084]that I hadn't been invited
[00:00:10.360]and I thought I'd go home and write
[00:00:11.929]a real snotty poem about Nebraska and
[00:00:14.202]have Bill read it out there in my absence.
[00:00:16.867]And I got home and
[00:00:17.808]I started to work on the poem
[00:00:19.236]and as the poem developed
[00:00:20.072]I began to understand how much
[00:00:21.465]I really loved the state.
[00:00:23.102]And, uh, this is that poem.
[00:00:24.909]So this is Nebraska.
[00:00:27.649]The gravel road rides with a slow gallop
[00:00:29.746]over the fields, the telephone lines
[00:00:31.960]streaming behind, its billow of dust
[00:00:34.504]full of the sparks of redwing blackbirds.
[00:00:37.962]On either side, those dear old ladies,
[00:00:40.466]the loosening barns, their little windows
[00:00:42.637]dulled by cataracts of hay and cobwebs
[00:00:45.539]hide broken tractors under their skirts.
[00:00:48.929]So this is Nebraska. A Sunday
[00:00:51.657]afternoon; July. Driving along
[00:00:54.659]with your hand out squeezing the air,
[00:00:57.023]a meadowlark waiting on every post.
[00:01:00.373]Behind a shelterbelt of cedars,
[00:01:02.284]top-deep in hollyhocks, pollen and bees,
[00:01:05.504]a pickup kicks its fenders off
[00:01:07.605]and settles back to read the clouds.
[00:01:10.101]You feel like that; you feel like letting
[00:01:12.377]your tires go flat, like letting the mice
[00:01:15.163]build a nest in your muffler, like being
[00:01:17.857]no more than a truck in the weeds,
[00:01:20.265]clucking with chickens or sticky with honey
[00:01:23.023]or holding a skinny old man in your lap
[00:01:25.383]while he watches the road, waiting
[00:01:27.360]for someone to wave to. You feel like
[00:01:30.071]waving. You feel like stopping the car
[00:01:32.869]and dancing around on the road. You wave
[00:01:35.647]instead and leave your hand out gliding
[00:01:39.163]larklike over the wheat, over the houses.

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Ted Kooser reads "So This Is Nebraska"

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