Back Desert Trail

~~~

~~~

SLAVE TO THE DESERT GODDESS

by Cloyd Campfire

(alias Rawclyde!)

2000 A.D

~~~

~ 1 ~

Chewy Sunset, thee
old hobo, knelt at
Her
nail-cracked sandaled feet

Upon that terrain
from which grows
cacti
creosote and mesquite

And thru which meanders
jack rabbits, dry washes
& the unpaved
Pipeline Road

About a mile from which
this strange drama
did
unfoad.

 

~ 2 ~

Yeeeeeeeap, swathed in
the singing silence &
dry
summer heat

Chewy Sunset
knelt at
Her
immaculate feet

To pull a thorn
outta
Her
toe

After which occurance
Her eyes
magnified their
inherent glow.

 

~ 3 ~

She was divine-
ly
fine-
ly blessed

With long legged
long blond
earth-
iness

Frill free
Salvation Army fare
was
Her dress

Which detracted not
one tithing
from
Her worthiness

She wore a crown of
nothing
but memories
of thee humility

Of wifehood to
an Indian bully boy
a-flirt
with criminility

While isolated for years
on thee olde
Indian
reservation

Now widowhood in
a tiny desert town was
Her
current station

A beauty was She
whose child-like
smile
would never grow old

She gazed down upon Chew
thru
slashing blue
eyes made bold

By his
ob-
vious
dedication

To
Her
desert goddess
radiation.

 

~ 4 ~

Her catharsistic eyes
of
splintering
blue

Cast
a
paradisical
hue

From which
there
was
no escape

Across the
arid
land-
scape

Yea, these immensely talented
eyes also melted down
the poor
old boy

Who had stayed a-kneel
at Her feet
like some kind of
thrift shop toy

Yea, Her eyes melted him down
into
the
desert ground

‘Til he heard the
desolate land’s
every
sound

From deep in a burrow
the snor-
ing of
a squirrel

To the dancing vibration
of
a distant
dust devil’s swirl

From chanting ants to
a cactus’s
deep
toe-wiggling feet

From horizon
to horizon
Her kingdom played
a cacophony replete

Chewy fanned out deep
into the terra firma ’til
he be-
come a part of it all

A new mineral deposit en-
slaved to the
Desert Goddess’s
siren call.

 

~ 5 ~

Yeeeeeeeap, there
Chewy Sunset lay
gravel buffed by wind
dirt fine as dust

A real part of
the land
or
bust

A rattlesnake limp in the
heat, crawled across the spot
looking
for shade

The Desert Goddess crushed
the critter’s head with
Her foot
n’ silently bade

Them both not to follow
Her and
walking on air
She wandered away

Then toward
the end
of
the day

Quite a few
miles
a-
way

She entered the
local saloon
to
slay

An endless thirst
and an endless sorrow
for the end of which
Chewy doth pray.

~

(Copyright Clyde Collins 2012)

~~~

BACK DESERT TRAIL

http://backdeserttrail.yolasite.com/we-the-people.php

~~~

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About Rawclyde!

I have employed a few pen names throughout the years. Rawclyde with an exclamation mark (!) is the one too sticky to go away... Came of age at Crawford High, San Diego, CA ~ writing sports, a column, & playing football ~ graduated in '68... Attended SDSU for a couple years... Hit the road in a '56 Chevy milk-truck, a "studymobile," filling up notebooks & working as a laborer in the southwest... Practiced the genteel art of fiction for several years in my hometown... Enlisted in the U.S. Army ~ they made me a newsman in Hawaii ~ wrote another column for a while... Attended more courses at SDSU ~ studied novel writing with Professor Charlie Brashers... Sold books out of an '85 Ford one-ton van, a "book mule," in the desert... Did some writing in an old hotel in Prescott AZ... Have written & self-published 9 or so books ~ many of which are hiding out on the cyber highway...
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2 Responses to Back Desert Trail

  1. sophiadeen92 says:

    A pleasure to read and so well written. You have a unique imagination.

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