How to farm for tomorrow?
This is the question that stitches an emotional wallop into a geography of cow tank and cattail, udder balm, hot beef sandwiches and a vast, uncluttered sky. Where the world’s largest ball of twine sits beneath the water tower, a lively cast gives shape to the poet’s life: the John Deere implement dealer, Patty the Dog Lady, a hermit, the banker dressed like Elvis, and Orlando, a beloved pig. Told through the voice of a local angel who’s gone organic, non-GMO, these poems celebrate with humor and pathos a lineage of land, beliefs, stories, and community—the family and neighbors who convene for each other in their good clothes. Is it foolish joy?
In a bifurcated America, in the exigency of this moment, of climate change and generations in transition, Jeanne Lutz raises intelligent, yet difficult questions through vivid images and lyrical language. Here, we experience the ways decisions and desires collide with and illuminate a sense of longing for the poet, the farm, a people and a nation to be better versions of themselves. Here, she rallies hope and responsibility for leaving behind a finer land and sky for future generations.
Jeanne Lutz is a fiscal year 2026 recipient of a Creative Individuals grant from the Minnesota State Arts Board. This activity is made possible by the voters of Minnesota through a grant from the Minnesota State Arts Board, thanks to a legislative appropriation from the arts and cultural heritage fund. She grew up on a small dairy farm in southern Minnesota, attended the National University of Ireland Galway, and spent two years in Japan. In addition to having her poetry supported by the National Endowment for the Arts, the Jerome Foundation, the Oberholtzer Foundation, and the Minnesota Center for Book Arts, she is a Pushcart Prize nominee, Best-of-the-Net nominee, and winner of the Loft Mentor Series for poetry.
From the book
JOAN OF ARC'S INSTRUCTIONS FOR THE SOUL URGE
leave the mud on
perfect your sense of direction
throw dead tractors over cliffs
ring that bell like it’s dinnertime
be true as raw meat
use udder balm to keep your feet soft
always carry a straight slot and pliers
never plow the same field twice
know that some people want you
to stay the same but tell them
you are not breakfast cereal
at least you better not be
when the cornfield starts curling
and the crows get too many
drive through town shouting
we’re all going to live forever
work eighteen-hour days
no need to walk the line
just learn to look at metal
and melt it with your eyes