Minnesota, like Maryland, has a lot of coastline, so we weren't surprised to find a lost sailor stumbling around a pond, photographing reed canary grass with a lens that rhymes with doom. Chasing dragonflies and ice fishing are only a small part of Scott King's life. The editor and printer has published several volumes of his own poetry and numerous letterpress chapbooks, pamphlets and broadsides. Among the thirty authors his Red Dragonfly Press has inked into books are Dorianne Laux,
Larry Gavin (see review here) and the longtime Salisbury State College poet Michael Waters. Many of these authors have had their Red Dragonfly poems read by Garrison Keillor on NPR's Morning Edition. Scott is also a chemical and environmental engineer, which doesn't mean he works on the railroad, and a translator of works from Spanish and Greek. What, you may wonder, were we doing in our Bayliner in the land that gave us Hubert Humphrey? We'd been passing around our thumb-smudged copy of Scott's Rice County Odonata Journal (see review) and knew that some things in life must be believed to be seen. We believed. >>>








Plains Emerald

Somatochlora ensigera

I've traveled a long way to meet you,
all of my many years,
all the summers and summer storms,
all the winters and icy roads.

I'm the silent one
who walks the skyline
beside the Sand Hill River,
the silent one in the deep grasses
at the river's edge,
inspecting the clouds,
the raining down sun.

I watch you approach,
tiny winged horse with fiery green eyes,
flying, almost galloping, toward me.

Our lives touch just this once,
wings to fingertips.

Some knowledge is so strange
it forges words like thorns.
Some beauty is so unexpected
it breaks a life in half.

Scott King


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