Thru all the corners past clothes lines pointing east and west a pocket full of matchbooks badges from towns passed through, never stayed long traveled in open boxcars with men wearing hats cowboy boots faded jeans standing like kings overlooking the land passed over 10,000 streets not one name remembered
There’s a ghost in the meadow a shadow in the middle a reflection absent of pain its not the everlasting but you can see it from here the land supports ancient frames unruly hedges and rambling stone walls that unlock the uphill where gravity pulls one onto the footstool of land
On the backstretch they disappear into the land. The occasional rising of a head is momentarily glimpsed. Even from here, the pounding of the earth is faintly heard. The crowd remains silent as they emerge from the final curve. Nostrils flaring, leather and sweat, taught reins, hooves ripping the dirt aside. They are massed together. … More RACE DAY
IN ME …..I got a land in me, rocks melted into blood and skin from snakes. Dust and sand forms the man and tears wash it away into rivers deep with shadows, the places of past front porches and lights too dim for a full face where screen doors welcome the great and small into … More IN ME
Roger Singer 