Sky Dreams
like purple waves
over a drunken body
drowning in the sands,
when air
is the whole of the sky
and the caravan
moves ghost bodies,
pale phantoms,
sahara mares
saddled for childhood,
spent like a penny
on whiskey spit cowboys
and a boy divided
from man to child
in the dense swirl of moonlight
dancing frenzy forward, forward
lanterns sway
with the soundless, and the
impact of horshoes
slapping hoofs
on a ten gallon hat
bent and balanced over confusion
intuition, the partition
of an artist
and an old west scene
guns slung
and singing,
the boredom
turned alcoholism
too many boys
too few mothers
too ugly to be beautiful
but true beauty comes from
reminiscing about
going west.