Where Did Our Ghost Town Go?

A Ghost Town Called Love

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Going to the chapel…

~~~

The most beautiful

most ghoulish empress

on Earth

& I

so sly so wry

stood on the top

of a rock pinnacle so high

up there in the desert sky

her one thousand & one demonettes

so wily so crafty

could not answer why

~

Above the panoramic valley of death

swayed her & I

her hair a furious flag of glory

the hat on my head a miracle

that would not blow away

in the blow-torch wind that

scorched wounded & branded our souls

~

The view at our feet

shrank crucifixions & ghost towns

into nothing for nobody but ants

this wild escarpment of God stretched

around the planet & bumped

the back of the head as

we stood there

on the verge of slow dancing

but just holding hands instead

our eyes wide open to

truth

~

Clouds eye-balled by like

thick novels

their pages fluttering to the climatic end

in a matter of seconds

~

A passing eagle dropped a feather

into me’ lady’s other hand

the great bird snapped his wing

& was gone

~

She stuck her new eagle feather into my miracle hat

I became Chief Hopping Rabbit

but we still didn’t dance

~

We only stood there

quietly contemplating the journey before us

then I said to her

“Ready?”

~

She  squeezed my hand

we leaped into the void

ghosts

we floated upward…

~

(Copyright Clyde Collins 2012)

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The Sheriff

~~~

~~~

He sits on the bunk

heart goodly sunk

on the table a cactus chunk

& a pot of coffee

~

He sits in remorse

thinks about his horse

the one that died

desert fried

~

He’s the sheriff

the last human alive

in a ghost town called

you know what

~

He sits in a locked jail cell

he’s got the key

he’s most comfortable in here

a total urbanite

~

Oh but woe oh woe

is he & all those others who

wait for the show to begin

under the hanging tree

~

It’s a terrible disappointment

to oh so many in the nation

the sheriff’s name is

Isom Dart

~

However there is one lady

in this rocket on the launching pad

of intergalactic travel

whom it does not bother

~

Yes, one woman charmed by

the futility of living in

a town run amok

by a spooked sheriff

~

This woman who desires him

is Diana

my Diana

Diana Longtree

~

She’s a ghost

I’m a ghost

we’re the ghosts in this

   dusty old western movie…

~

Yours

truly

Rawclyde

!

~

(Copyright Clyde Collins 2012)

~~~

I awake!

~~~

~~~

In the old hotel

Diana & I retire to

a busted-up suite upstairs

& haunt it

~

While we levitate in the

center of the dusty time-deranged room

indulgently locked in our favorite position & getting along

I fall into a deep deep sleep

~

When I awake I discover

myself prone on the cracked tiles of

the ancient Egyptian temple that’s half buried

in the sand dunes west of Yuma

~

Ishtar, the lost Assyrian goddess of love & war

sits up, peers down

at me between her miraculous legs &

says

~

“It’s time for you to return to

the Christian mission, Rawclyde

Your 10 days sleeping outside

are over”

~

She then taps

the back of my head with

her bare heel

which knocks me out

~

I awake again

having dreamed a dream

that was embraced

in a dream

~

Now I discover myself alone

in a sleeping bag

on a big pile of dirt & chunks of concrete

in the gravel pit next door to Crossroads Mission

~

Partnering with nothing

more

or less

than reality

~

The sun is about to rise

under a pink bed-spread

stretched across the jagged little mountain range

out yonder

~

A very long train

thump-thumps by &

somebody fires-up a tractor in

the gravel pit

~

I, camouflaged

in the early morning shadows on

my cold rocky knoll, instantly

roll-up my bedroll

~

As I trudge away from the peak

of my dreams

I realize that the invisible cosmic forces of the universe

are all around & inside of me

~

And that they can be evoked

for the common good

or remain hidden forever in a ghost town

   a ghost town called Love…

~

(Copyright Clyde Collins 2012)

~~~

Ishtar

~~~

Table Talk

~~~

~~~

Her foot eventually signals its presence on

the edge of my chair

by means of one whispering tap upon

my ghostly rubies.

~

“I still believe in transient relationships,”

says the newly-arrived shade

of Diana.

“In fact, before he hung me by the neck

until dead from that wearisome tree, the

sheriff & I…”

~

Diana stops talking with

her mouth.

She now talks with

her foot.  Her toes, especially the big one, tell

the torrid tale.

Her heel grinds home the punch line.

~

“The sheriff & you ~ what?”

~

Now her eyes quietly repeat

the confession of lewd debauchery

page after page after page

in about 7 zooming seconds.

~

She smiles.

~

Horrified I howl,

“No, not the sheriff!”

My fist slams down on the table, which

disintegrates into a pile of dust, there in

the broken-down hotel cafe.

~

Diana is standing now, chair discarded.

She steps forward.

Little puffs of dust arise.

“Poor boy.  You’re upset over nothing.”

~

She’s still smiling.  She can’t help it.

~

“Nothing?” I howl ~ still sitting.

~

“Nothing,” she sighs.

She steps closer closer ~ looms

over me like

The Statue of Liberty

come alive & opening her court-room robe.

~

My eyes go cross-eye-ed

and my soul becomes unglued

by the close proximity of the

living tabernacle of the sacred light!

~

(Copyright Clyde Collins 2012)

~~~

Diana

~~~

~~~

Realization looms

in her eye

she didn’t wanna

die

but with everything done

and everything said

here she is

dead

&

stuck

oh

fuck

in a ghost town called

Love

~

Who

is to blame?

he’s crossing the street

what’s his name

oh yes

years ago

on memory lane

a favorite ‘bo

now he’s at the door

his steps are slow

he’s in the room

his eyes aglow

in another time & place

she wham-banged his tongue

& yesterday

the fool got her hung

in a strange place called

Love

~

He sits down

they’re eye to eye

he says

“hi”

she says

“why”

he says

“I guess it was mean’t to be”

her eyes

look around regretfully

in this twilight zone called

Love

~

(Copyright Clyde Collins 2012)

~~~

The other ghost arrives…

~~~

Nobody around

no gold found

a creaking sound

it’s a ghost town!

~

Diana stands next to her corpse

that hangs from the tree

it sways back n forth

how’d this come to be?

~

A haunted saloon over there

abandoned church down a tumble-weed street

faded-blue hotel over here

nothing but nothing for her to greet

~

She steps thru the wall of the hotel

the jack rabbits high-tail it as she arrives

she swoops into the hotel cafe

no service here is about all that survives

~

She sits at a table anyway

in her mind she orders a cup of tea

nobody serves her anything

   and then across the street she sees me…

~

(Copyright Clyde Collins 2012)

~~~

~~~

A Ghost Town Called Love

Entire verse narrative finished & refined!

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Soundtrack to A Ghost Town Called Love:

http://songza.com/listen/clumsy-calf-roping-cloydlovesthe

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