November 2016
Joseph Mills
joemills2001@aol.com
When I joined the faculty at the University of North Carolina School of the Arts, I was only planning on staying a few years.  That was over fifteen years ago.  In fact, the sentiment “that wasn’t what I expected to happen” is probably at the core of most of my work.  I’ve published six collections of poetry with Press 53, including this April, Exit, pursued by a bear, a collection of poems triggered by stage directions in Shakespeare. Every New Year’s Eve I resolve to improve my guitar playing and learn how to cook more interesting dishes; the fact that each year I genuinely believe this will happen reveals a fundamentally optimistic nature.
​My website: www.josephrobertmills.com

Westernly


Living in Albuquerque,
I would do laundry
across from a liquor store
with a drive-up window,
and as I sorted and folded uniforms,
I would watch trucks,
low-riders and station wagons
circle the building,
a seeming case study
in laziness and irresponsibility.
 
Then one evening I saw a rider
walk his horse around the store.
He leaned over for the six pack
that came through the window,
opened a can,
hooked the rest
on the saddle horn,
and rode into the darkness,
 
and I thought, “Ohhhhh,”
and, like a child, I thought,
“I want a horse,”
and like the poet
in the Maverick Bar,
I thought, “America
I could almost love you,”
and I thought, “My life
has gone wrong,”
and I thought
America my life ohhh.

-from Angels, Thieves, and Winemakers
©2016 Joseph Mills
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