Flaming Bill’s Wild West ShowA Poem by Nobody.Flaming Bill’s Wild West Show restless native
ghosts chant wolf
howls into flick- ering neon
rattle snakes that roll
thunder from a black
storm cloud
tail. should leave
early to beat traffic. we’ll have
to miss the death rattle, but I hear
it’s only an echo of the
original anyway. dead Indians
are not rare. every road
in America is paved with their
bones. apparently, words like
terrorist and genocide weren’t
always so taboo in America. nowadays, they’ve
been summed up in one word:
CONTROL. pull over. I think
that elephant ear is rising
from the grave, too. © 2011 Nobody. |
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3 Reviews Added on August 1, 2011 Last Updated on August 1, 2011 Author
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