Vikings in Oklahoma
(with thanks to the Free Generative Poetry Workshop)

Vikings rowing up the Mississippi.
The Mississippi rolling down to New Orleans.
The Vikings reaching the Arkansas.
The Arkansas rising up in the Rockies.

The Vikings rising one morning in Norway.
The Vikings deciding, “Let’s go to Oklahoma!”
The Mississippi passing the mouth of the Wisconsin.
The Vikings rowing past Greenland.
The Mississippi rounding the nose of Iowa.
The Vikings rounding the Florida Keys.
The delta beckoning: its goosefoot finger.

The Vikings take a hard right from the Gulf.
The mouth of the Arkansas speaks their names.
The Vikings decide, “Ya, you betcha, let’s go up this one.”
The mouth of the Poteau whispers: “Come home.”
The mouth of the Poteau whispers: “You will never die.”

A town in the Ouachita foothills,
Whose name embraces heaven.
A state park whose name is Runestone.
Markings on a boulder said to be runes.
Bear cubs born with blonde hair and blue eyes.
A place on the Arkansas, by the Poteau.
A place of ancient power: Spiro.
An Indian enchantress, changing Vikings into bears