Adrift

~

Cloud Shadow 25

~

I’ve been lost in

these canyons

now

for a century or two

~

Just floating a-

round with

not

much to do

~

I’ve read all

my books

about one hundred

times each

~

My spelling has improved

but I’m

a numbskull now

when it comes to speech

~

My haunted old boat

has become

brittle

as over-cooked toast

~

About forty feet a-

bove the ground

it can

barely still coast

~

It has bumped into

the walls of

these canyons a-

bout ten million times

~

Once more and it will

become nothing but

scattered

butterfly rhymes

~

I have not grown wise

over the ages

just

plain numb

~

If you were to ask me

my name

I would

just sit and look dumb

~

These scrappy

desperado

canyons of nothing

but rocks and sand

~

Have turned me into

the desert-bleached

bones of a

silent time-weary man

~

A living

fossil

am

I

~

Adrift

be-

neath

Deep Desert sky…

~

Deep Desert Blues V

http://deepdesertbluesv.yolasite.com

by Rawclyde

!

 

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Rawclyde’s Ranch

~

road

http://www.roadmood.com

~

~

campsites

http://www.tallstorycampsites.com

~

~

ghost town

http://aghostttowncalledlove.yolasite.com

~

~

newspaper office

Old Timer Chronicle III

Old Timer Chronicle II

Old Timer Chronicle I

~

~

code room

https://rawclydescoderoom.wordpress.com

~

Rawclyde

!

Tulip II

     “Come in,” she sang.

     He came in.

     “Hi, Tulip.”

     “Hi,” she replied.  Under the faucet her hands worked with expert briskness ~ almost sweeping the dishes clean ~ also, incidentally, splashing soapy water all over the drainboard and floor.

     His hands, on the other hand, oh hands, carelessly but lovingly snuck around her trim warm waist.

     She nestled back with a hard slow wiggle of her bottom.  “When are we getting married?” she cooed.

     “Couple months,” he mumbled, intently watching her hands do an A-1 job on the dishes.

     Her head turned and she gave him a long lingering kiss.

     “You taste like hot sauce,” he whispered huskily.

~

from

Road’s Cannon

a short novel by Rawclyde!

~

Boy With A Hat’s topnotch “Washing Dishes” poem

http://vincentmars.com/2015/12/13/washing-dishes

~

photo

Mila Kunis

~

Repercussion

~~~

~~~

Oh the repercussions of

what I have done

are haunting me no end!

cries out the soul of

~

Town

Sheriff

Isom

Dart

~

He slips the key into his vest

straightens the badge on his chest

throws open the jail-cell door

walks out into the morning sunshine

~

There are birds chirping

a train hoots in the distance

a child is at play on the porch

but it’s all just the ghost town moaning

~

Then a bullet sings thru the air

splinters the wall nex’ his eyelash

a foul burst of dust blurrs his vision

alas, this is not Memory Lane

~

It’s

happening

right

now!

~

Sheriff Dart tumbles behind a

rusted chunk of mining works located

just right for the occasion

3 more bullets slice the air

~

“You shoulda never killed him, Dart!”

it’s a female voice

unmistakable

more lead smites and clangs

~

“No more excuses, Dart!”

zip

zippitty

zippp

~

How many lady friends did this feller have anyway?

muses the town sheriff

under the porch now

   digging his elbows into the dirt…

~

(Copyright Clyde Collins 2012)

~~~

~~~

Walk like an Egyptian…

~~~

~~~

After a while the people of Yuma, Arizona

grow tired of I, the old mummy,

wandering around town bumping

into things and getting in the way of traffic

~

Plus my bandages have become yellow &

brown with crusty nausea fluttering

in the wind & dragging on the ground

I unintentionally cause 2 traffic accidents

~

The police finally catch-up to me

drive me to the California border

point this tired old mummy toward

the dunes, ah yes, giant hills of desert sand

~

It takes me two days to climb

to the top of a sand dune, ten minutes

to roll down the other side

& then I hear a bird-like female voice

~

We make small talk until finally

I tell her, “I wish you weren’t

a creature of darkness”

she rips a rag off my face  “Ahhhhhhh!”

~

And leads me to an ancient Egyptian temple

half buried in another dune

where she presses a button that moves

a slab & we step inside

~

In a colossus vault painted with moving hieroglyphics

I finally find the lost goddess

or she finally finds me

   an overflow of bubbly joy causes me to collapse…

~

(Copyright Clyde Collins 2012)

~~~

~~~

Pulaski & The Bear

~~~

~~~

Pulaski pitched his tent in a juniper grove

a bear crackfully approached looking for berries

the bear’s head was all nose & he was a big one

   “go away, bear, go away!” hollered Pulaski…

~

The bear stood up ~ taller than the woodsman

who stepped back & hollered again, “go away, bear, go away!”

Pulaski backed behind the tent & backed into the bushes

where he turned around & ran 20,000 leagues in 40 seconds…

~

He returned the next day with

a gallon can of red pepper that he threw

all over the ground &

   never saw his fuzzy-eared friend again…

~

It was about this time that I met Pulaski

he was taller than most fellers & his strides were long

his hair was tied behind his head

   he waved hello reluctantly as he strode up the highway…

~

(Copyright Clyde Collins 2011)

~~~

Pulaski & The Deep Ravine

~~~

~~~

With a pack bigger than himself on his back

he trudged thru the night across the salt flats

the full moon was in command beautifully

   Pulaski blinked & blinked, sleep deprived, & shuffled onward…

~

Suddenly a deep ravine yawned before him

aghast he peered into its long dark depths

oh boy, he turned around & crawled into his bag

   slept ’til dawn broke out all over the place…

~

After breakfast he looked & looked all around

he strode in circles all over blank terrain

there was no ravine, just flats, distant hills

   and a brain in his head thawed out by the sun…

~

(Copyright Clyde Collins 2011)

~~~