when beef was wild

when beef was wild

cowboys were real. they jumped on

their truly broken horse

and threw dust in the air.

they stuck a knife in between

their teeth and gutted the shit

out of their dinner. they spit

blood and mucus out on the grass and

rode from lightening bolts and His great

thunder. when beef was wild

cowboys had a job. they had women

who made cornbread proper.

cornmeal and water. none of this

extra shit. spoils the flavor.

they sat round a

wagon wheel table and

spoke of indians and gold. they spoke of

building fences to claim what was

rightfully theirs. they shot

people who stepped on their ranch.

they got up every day ready to do what they had to.

they went to bed full and satisfied.

wyoming

wyoming

clouds look like they're on interlude.

we could reach up and pull each one apart

like it was cotton candy. each particle separating from itself

but not wanting to let go. stretching and tearing.

they move across the sky,

following the bus like

an old ship, fierce and majestic. their shadows hit

the rocky fields and

mountains acting as spilled paint causing

anyone to feel small.

and as the bus turns into wagon hound rest stop,

i wonder when i'll be home.