Sandra Soli is a writer and copy editor in Edmond, OK. Her poems, short fiction, articles, and photographs have appeared widely since the 1970's. Her article on prose poetry was featured in the 2009 edition of Poet's Market. Teaching artist and columnist for a decade, Sandra facilitates workshops "wherever I am allowed, as long as they don't charge me much to do it." Honors include an Oklahoma Book Award, New Delta Review's Eyster Poetry Prize, two Pushcart nominations, a nomination for the AWP Intro Prize, and a citation from Papier Mache Press for her work in empowering others. She serves on the board of Oklahoma's Center for the Book, enjoys collaborative projects with artists in other disciplines, and is an unrepentant bibliopolic.
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| Photo by Mary Mackie |
At Pop’s
Couple miles east to skyscraper
soda bottle, neon-dressed nights
Phone photos, damn good chili
cream soda and postcards
South of Old 66, a darkening sky
better gas up.
better gas up.
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| Photo by Mary Mackie |
Earthquake South of Guthrie
All poems become elegies in the end.
Did you say this in a dream? Last night
three cats in a car, parked in a field.
Did you crack the window? I reminded
knowing you despise a nagging woman.
You walked ahead, chatting with a woman
whose name I don’t recall. Small jokes.
Doors opened wide, but the program
we traveled to attend, I had no clue.
You turned a corner
as I awoke to waves crossing the floor,
you off to wherever people go
then earth sleeping politely,
having made its point.
having made its point.
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