Ancestors In The Landscape
You've got to love a poet who says:
All the hermits and holy men
of my formative youth
were alcoholic sheepherders
in self-imposed exile
It's all here: dining on mountain oysters; jacketing orphan lambs with the bloody hides of the recently dead to encourage adoption; waking in an artist mother's studio surrounded by paintings; grieving the loss of the ranch.
"Places are the storehouse of events," the poet tells us. In these hard and loving poems of growing up in a family of Wyoming sheep ranchers, Maureen Tolman Flannery shows us she is well versed in the storehouse that is the American West.
- Charles Rossiter, host of poetrypoetry.com