haikow
My friend John, who encouraged me to read publicly for the first time, was also a big-time fan of cowboy poetry. So I've been having some fun with it.
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yippee yiy kaiy… thud
me ‘n’ my rig in the mud … forgot to cinch it horse unspurred leaps edge steep slope straight-legg’d fall-flyin’ grizzly stays behind stable hand dreamin’ his mind’s on the wide prairie his boots are knee-deep the barn is burnin’ all hands are in helpin’ out winter two-steppin’ see purdy lass grin arms reach. . . but pinch sleepin’ Slim! another dang dream!! stompin’ off traildust stompin’ to fiddle and bass stompin’ on — dang! — my hat! cantankerous coot the ol’ cowboy won’t remove his hat for haircut |
flippin’ fat flapjacks
sizzlin’ sausages, scramblin’ eggs steamin’ coffee … heaven leather old and worn spurs dull, rope smooth, hat felt stained sharp eye for trouble noise! cluckin’, quackin’, barkin’, general ruckus… good to be back home alt: chickens are cluckin’ me ’n’ the little woman shuckin [1] good to be back home tall in the saddle you shore cain’t say for Shorty unless he’s in it chewin’ and spittin’ had to pass some time sittin’ lost three cows today reckon I should come… was a long time friend of mine… stayed away too long _____________________________________________ [1] (corn... corn!... What were you thinkin’?!) |
“sign here” the clerk said
hard-earned pay now my own spread my ‘x’ marks the spot work sweat fight spit cuss cows ever’ which way but loose Bar None brandin’ time quiet in the chute out over up butt down ouch rodeo rider gone at crack of dawn these ponies ready to run after long snowstorm he’s mounted… he’s off still one foot in the stirrup… patient pony waits hands doin’ shooters and pigs just doin’ their thing both end up in mud beans ’n’ beer all night make musical interlude and shitter stampede |
a mean bronc he is
don’t cotton to no greenhorns
old hands let him be
redeye in mornin’
young cowhand takes no warnin’
world’s longest traildrive
kicked up a ruckus
so bad… can’t even pull string
on tobacco bag
naked in her arms
old buckaroo died smilin’…
with hat and boots on
under Tornado
Smithy’s shakin’ and sweatin’
new shoe… gulp… don’t fit!
nearsighted blacksmith
more times he bangs on his thumb
better’s the target
don’t cotton to no greenhorns
old hands let him be
redeye in mornin’
young cowhand takes no warnin’
world’s longest traildrive
kicked up a ruckus
so bad… can’t even pull string
on tobacco bag
naked in her arms
old buckaroo died smilin’…
with hat and boots on
under Tornado
Smithy’s shakin’ and sweatin’
new shoe… gulp… don’t fit!
nearsighted blacksmith
more times he bangs on his thumb
better’s the target