the Cosmic fibers
twist in the wind, her
ancient spirit lopes toward
the barrels, circling the reincarnated
pylons in the arena, they sit in the bleachers,
Hanged Man, Popes and Pharaohs, gods and
morons, lemon verbena to cover the smell of proselytizer's
horse manure and stoned preachers,
 
her boots
framed in silver
stirrup skirts in alchemical
rodeo, dirt to hemp, bucking
meteor to planetary oreo, cookie
of the Stars, her rusted spurs holding
the mercury of my polish,

I timed
her Lonestar
ride, the gold stopwatch
given to me by the Native
author of Yellow River, I.P. Free,
I did a poem where the linseed oil
gasped, she is at her personal best,
her saddle fits her ass, disclaimer of
Hoyle's rules of poker, Crowley's designs,
religious, esoteric, Egyptian mystery, Kabbala,
Hermetic,

I ride with my
cayenne-peppered
noose, my witch on
the loose, divining with
my silver hoof pick, picking
out dirt clods from life's hooves
keeping her from laming, her ancient
spirit lopes toward the barrels.

...thoughts ride by Romantic Poetess Victoria L. McColley
http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewPoetry.asp?id=271509&AuthorID=68762

Copyright 1.15.2010 Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist