Products tagged with 'poetry'

11-oz. capacity
Dishwasher- & microwave-safe
Ceramic
White exterior
Ships directly from manufacturer

11-oz. capacity
Dishwasher- & microwave-safe
Ceramic
White exterior
Ships directly from manufacturer

11-oz. capacity
Dishwasher- & microwave-safe
Ceramic
White exterior
Ships directly from manufacturer

11-oz. capacity
Dishwasher- & microwave-safe
Ceramic
White exterior
Ships directly from manufacturer

Dakota Dreaming returns us to the ancient core of poetry a spiritual quest. But this book offers no standard hero's journey--no daring descent int the underworld, no triumphant, hopeful return. It offers, rather, a gathering of visions received by one who has learned to dwell indefinitely in the liminal space between realms. While much of the collection in written in the Japanese haibun form, Buettner's imagery is rooted deep in North American prairie soil. Her poems are like "abandoned houses that let the gold of afternoon light filter in through open windows," offering some brief, imperfect respite for "those of us who have lost our way." And when the daylight fades and darkness becomes complete, Buettner guides us: "I borrow the light / of snow."

--Brendan Stermer, author of Forgotten Frequencies (NDSU Press, 2023)

Winner of the 2025 Poetry of the Plains & Prairies (POPP) Award
Volume 10 of the POPP Award Series

This collection of poems is a narrative, a folk tale, a ghost story, and a loose, speculative history of a strange few acres of land in Nebraska called Art Farm. We wrote it during a two-month-long artists’ residency in 2017.  

This book began as a sort of reply to an unpublished chapbook by Ben Clark and GennaRose Nethercott called, Dear Fox, Dear Barn. In that book, The Barn is a character. We began to dissect how the land of Art Farm Nebraska and its inhabitants interacted around that character. On the farm there are multiple structures in a constant state of renewal and decay. Throughout the summer and fall people live and work there, rebuilding and creating. In the winter the weather takes over. The raccoons take over. The ghosts come back. The story goes, sometime in the early 2000s, what would become The Floating Barn was being moved from another farm on huge steel I-beams. When they reached Art Farm, the barn started to shift. Instead of risking further damage they stopped moving and built a trailer-high post foundation beneath the I-beams and reinforced the damaged areas. The building seemed to float there above the prairie, dropping shingles and wall sections until it finally collapsed in a 2018 winter storm. One other structure mentioned directly in our book is a farmhouse built around 1910. Ben and I lived in that house with the mice and mosquitos and attic raccoons for two months. It was amazing.