Cloud Shadow 25


I’ve been lost in

these canyons


for a century or two


Just floating a-

round with


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


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


butterfly rhymes


I have not grown wise

over the ages


plain numb


If you were to ask me

my name

I would

just sit and look dumb


These scrappy


canyons of nothing

but rocks and sand


Have turned me into

the desert-bleached

bones of a

silent time-weary man


A living








Deep Desert sky…


Deep Desert Blues V

by Rawclyde




Rawclyde’s Ranch








ghost town



newspaper office

Old Timer Chronicle III

Old Timer Chronicle II

Old Timer Chronicle I



code room




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.



Road’s Cannon

a short novel by Rawclyde!


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



Mila Kunis





Oh the repercussions of

what I have done

are haunting me no end!

cries out the soul of







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







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


more lead smites and clangs


“No more excuses, Dart!”





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)