cowboys

tall tales from the days of my adolescence

we spent the 

weekend

taser-gunning 

the cows

Billy rigged up

a bathtub

in the pasture

where we heated

the water to a boil

and gently

placed them in

 

their soft smiles

thanked us

and a foamy grey film

bled out as they

sunk below 

the surface

 

Billy retched

and I told him

to be calm 

it’s just

the final essence of

their kindness rising

I said

their inner milkiness

 

then a ruby-throat

came to draw in

the nectar from a

cluster of bee balm flowers

immortalized in mid-air

and still more cows

wandered forward

 

in their smoky flatulence

we found

alphas and deltas

that we arranged

into formulas

on a tarnished

silver plate

and as the campfire embers

glowed deep red and

our sleeping sacks

beckoned to us

 

we drank down the

final gulps of

hot miner’s tea

 

and Billy pronounced it

“more of the stuff

that made Rome great”

Reviews

[Kenneth The Poet]

You take such stark images and weave them into works on par with Dylan the minstrel. That last line makes me think of Rome as its about to be sacked by vandals. I'm not sure why that is, but poetry is supposed to do that, take your mind and being to places you don't expect. At least that's how my mind works. Great work all around.

[J]

OMG this has the Skinless Frank essence bubbling within the grey film and flatulence and my heaving belly. I remember the first piece of yours I read and laughed my arse off. This is no exception. You are carbon amongst the diamonds, dear D. xx

[Davidgeo]

Yay... a murder poem without valor. It's actually very fine work.

[roarke]

um, being a city boy originally... I'm a little at a loss. I'm familiar with miners lettuce, but tea? One of the things I enjoy about your writing Frank is the mystery and intensely intimate symbolism. It sticks with you, maybe haunts the reader and later, enhances his perceptions.