Wichita
Dusty barnacles on wagon wheels
Tiller stuck in neutral
Ransom paid in full with
Jolly Roger’s blinders
Sails torn beyond repair
What was that they said
Capn’s gotten drunk again
Claimed the last bit of hardtack for hisself
Had to fight the mealworms first
Says he likes them best
Mule’s on strike for wages
Tantamount to mutiny
Dust devils fill every orifice
Sucking powdered silt
Out of the deep ruts that point the way
Westward
Beneath the choking hazy brown sky
Day after endless day
Sagebrush is lookin’ gourmet
Be mighty fine stuffed into that buzzard overhead
Damn thing can scarcely fly
Full up he is
Only four of us left
Rock piles make shitty graves
Too hard to find
Too hot to stack
Shovel ain’t no better
Ground’s hard as stone
Don’t need no gloves neither
Hands too dried up to blister
Buckboard splinter on my ass
Reminds me to stand a spell
But the knees want to buckle
At every stony bump
Sunset straight ahead
Brings on the chill of night
No firewood since Wichita
Broken spokes will serve tonight
But will cripple us tomorrow
A thousand miles on foot
Long odds against
Thought I spied a sparklin’ stream
At dusk
Reckon we’ll see tomorrow
Hopin’ I’m right
It Jes’ ain’t true what they say
All that glitters is gold
Copyright 2011 Patrick Granfors
Bill
Ron
Chip Bergeron
Thanks Dick
Anna
Enjoyed the mass amount of Imagery
in this awesome presentation
Peace be with you
William
Regis
OK- move over Zane Gray- we'll be waiting.
That'll teach you to write this well.
John
Made me so thirsty I had to get up and get myself a vodka/tonic.
Mark