Mark Trechock lives in Dickinson, North Dakota. He grew up in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and began writing poems in high school. Between 1974 and 1995 he had much success publishing his poetry in literary journals. He is currently working on a collection of poems about western North Dakota, tentatively titled West of Town.
From 1993 until 2021 he served as Staff Director of Dakota Resource Council, through which he became aware of the concerns of farmers and ranchers in western North Dakota.
Mark served for 18 years as a Lutheran parish pastor in North Dakota, Minnesota and Colorado. He holds degrees from Augsburg College, Princeton Theological Seminary, and the Iliff School of Theology.
Driving Late and North Toward Cedar Creek Tired of all the Sirius stations, fighting To stay awake, my bed fifty-three miles away. April, cool, still, patches of fog. Coming over a rise I encounter Pronghorn, two lollygagging along the center stripe, Five or six ambling off the shoulder, Others fading into the backed-out prairie. They pay no attention, as if to say, They got here first, before the cougar, Before the bison, and certainly before The likes of me and my oldies rock. What songs they hear, what dance steps Move them, I don't know. I slow To a museum-going pace, inching Forward into impermeable night.
You must be logged in to post a comment.