I never drove but Wyoming Highways by William Notter makes me yearn for the wide open, empty highways of my old home state.
Notter grew up in Northeast Colorado. He earned a BA from the University of Evansville and a MFA from the University of Arkansas. His book Holding Everything Down received the Crab Orchard Series in Poetry First Book Award and was published in fall 2009 by Southern Illinois University Press. His poems have appeared in Alaska Quarterly Review, AGNI Online, Ascent, The Chattahoochee Review, Connecticut Review, The Midwest Quarterly, Southern Poetry Review, Willow Springs, the anthology Good Poems for Hard Times. He was also featured on NPR’s The Writer’s Almanac.
He was awarded the Robert Phillips Poetry Chapbook Prize from Texas Review Press for More Space Than Anyone Can Stand, and has received grants from the Nevada Arts Council and Sierra Arts Foundation. He has taught writing at the University of Nevada, Reno, and Grand Valley State University near Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Notter is comfortable with the wide open spaces of the semi-vacant West.
Wyoming Highways
Most of the traffic is pickup trucks
caked in bentonite from the methane roads,
or one-ton flatbeds with dually axles
and blue heelers balancing on the back.
But the blacktop slicing through rabbit brush flats
and weather the color of heated steel is perfect
for opening up a highway-geared American car
from the days of cubic inches and metal.
You could wind that Detroit iron up
to a sweet spot well above the posted limit,
where torque will casually pull the grades.
The car would rock on the springs, and growl
from deep in the carburetor throat
yanked wide open, gobbling down pure light.
—William Notter
From Holding Everything Down. © Southern Illinois University Press, 2009.
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