Long Maynard Poems

A new day perhaps, of immeasurable tin, sound of din
A hurricane noise, a thrall of riotous cuts, although thin
The blood-curdle choke of rage from before
Now purchased like plasma from the needle store
Go hump yourself, If...

Read More

Although it may not be enjoyable.
An it seemed unimportant to many.
Beginning a chore which it's objective
seems far-fetched and greedy.
Inspired by the events 
on some distant shore.
Something most would categorize 
as useless and would rather ignore
these...

Read More

She pulls the past together,
gathering weeds, twisting kelp,
squeezing minnows of memory
through shrinking nets.
 
My ex-wife phones
from a former home,
a village by the sea
now sinking
on a shelving shore.

"Brian the pub-crawler
took another tumble
he now gets rat-arsed on...

Read More

She pulls the past together, gathering weeds,
squeezing minnows of memory through shrinking nets.

My ex-wife phones from a former home,
a village by the sea now sinking
on a shelving shore.

‘Brian the pub-crawler took another tumble
he now gets...

Read More

I find myself looking in the mirror. 
More often at odd angles. 
Approaching from the side. 
A view askew through my pale eyes.  

Different angles offer new perspective. 
Like drawing pictures with lead. 
A...

Read More

It's cold again today. 
Skies are gray. 
The North wind blowing. 
A blanket of snow on the way. 

To cover what we had yesterday.  

The fence line is furrowed white, 
and the tall grass...

Read More

He had blue eyes,
and each time I passed,
they pierced me.  

I notice the details.
An odd thing I do. 
Fixating on the minutia and wondering. 

He wore robes.
The one under, white.  
The one on...

Read More

Smiley sold autographs and pieces of his hat, they say—
In halcyon movie days when heroes just blew away.

There came a time western movie jobs were sparse as hen’s teeth,
And Ken and Kermit Maynard retired and...

Read More

Fractured

   Ceila Maynard Is a young 
woman weighing all of one
Hundred pounds soaking wet. 
Sitting on the jetty she has an  
Epiphany regarding the fault
 lines beneath the ocean floor.
Never hearing of...

Read More

Remember Petticoat Junction?
Perhaps Green Acres too?
I Love Lucy and Carol Burnett,
Just for a laugh or two?

Dick Van Dyke and The Munsters,
Back when the "tube" was fun;
Doris Day and Love That Bob,
Don't forget The Flying Nun

Maxwell...

Read More

John Spotted-Horse said to the Witch, 
make me like a hawk so that I might spy, 
upon my enemies, 
and sweep silently down, 
to blind their eyes.  

John Spotted-Horse said to the Witch, 
make...

Read More

My Grandfather was a Sage-Burner.  
He would light the dry twisted grass with a Zippo. 
It was chromed, silver and read; "Live to ride.  Ride to Live."  

The sage would spark and...

Read More

He always loved knives. 
Blades flicking sharp like a snake's tongue.  
"Knives never lie," he said. 

The moment depends on honing. 
A ritual all its own.  

      ...

Read More

When there’s just too much news
That has more wrongs than right—
I watch those old westerns
In good old black and white.

I’ll watch that Rocky Lane
Or that Johnny Mack Brown—
Tim McCoy or Buck Jones—
Ones that once were...

Read More

I miss the way you used to lay across my chest. 
Your hair a mess and splashing in my face.  
Everything out of place but nothing mattered.  
Blonde waves crashing over blue eyes....

Read More

I have walked on fiery morning clouds. 
My hair like shooting stars behind me. 

I have chased lightning and whirlwinds in Hell, 
then drunk the nectar of Spring rain.  

I have stood at the...

Read More

He had been out there so long. 
On the shining path. 
Looking for a star to light his way.  

Oh how he knew lonely. 
He wore it like an old denim jacket. 
One faded...

Read More

I saw it fly across my path. 
From north to south. 
On a hot summer day in Oklahoma. 

Monarch colors glistened in the low western sun. 
Its fragile wings beating to the rhythm of a...

Read More

Tom Two-Guns stands on his porch. 
His hard eyes like the last rays of Sun on a winter day. 
Surrounded by tall grass and broken cars. 
He would stand this way bout every day. ...

Read More

I will rise when my People return. 

With hard eyes,
clinched fists,
and a cold heart. 

I will paint myself for war.  

With feathers tied in my hair.  
Scarified and singing of the old days....

Read More

I am Ashishishe. 
I am the Crow. 

The Universe whispers my name. 

I live in a run down house, 
and drive a broken truck.  

I have a black and white t.v., 
a bottle of...

Read More

Lee is a beatnik all right, the seventy year olds agreed
he was lying in the grass, playing bongos next to his weed
as chill as we had ever seen Maynard on Dobie Gillis too
We was singing...

Read More

We go with the rising Sun! 
Straight and true. 
Don't forget boys. 
The light of Christ rides with you.  

Load up and draw the sword of God!
He will carry you through. 
Take your bracer...

Read More

Did I come to you in the night? 
To tempt you? 
Tempt you into something right? 

Did I bring you nightmares? 

Nightmares of brown eyes. 
Lurking in the shadows of your mind. 
Locked in boxes...

Read More

My people have always known dust. 

They brought it in boxes. 
Across trails covered in tears. 
To red dirt and black oily clay.  

They wore it in their clothes, 
and watched it rise from...

Read More