I couldn’t live without her. I rode away.
She finally left me I’ll not gainsay.
He was a handsome gambler, a slick cheat.
She said that he made her somehow complete.
I have my horse and saddle, and my gun.
I rode off into the afternoon sun.
Red, red, it was like my still bleeding heart;
Fading to blackest black as I depart.
I worked on my good ranch and watched it grow.
Of an evening I still missed her so.
I was certain I would never be free.
When she left she took a big part of me.
After a year I rode into a town.
I saw her there, the gambler’s luck was down.
He had left her without any support.
She ran straight to me as her last resort.
If she had cheated on me once before
She would cheat again, I knew in my core.
I rode away laughing, finally free.
She could no longer make a fool of me.
brilliance bona fide in redolent skies
keen red submerging, clementine twilight
sunflowers show-offs of the waning sun
wedged within burnt orange escarpments
swifts of volcanic horizon in desert crags
old West crush corralled in surround-hugs
broke down in Tucson
flat-busted, him punchin' cows
and her slingin' hash
She was a gunslinger from way back.
She kept this under her hat.
A secret from everyone except the women she avenged.
They called her Marigold, because of her flowers.
When women who had been wronged learned of other women wronged,
They came to her in the middle of the night.
She was unknown as a gunslinger in this backwater town.
They thought of her only as preacher’s wife.
Preacher was always gone, preaching at a hanging or a revival.
The women came and told her what had happened.
After she verified it, she brought out her guns. Problem solved.
Celia Ann Blaylock, one of Alice’s doves
Plied her talents when the Wild West was
A Hooker, a hussy, streetwalker, floozy
a strumpet. Loose woman, whatever, a doozy
and then she met Wyatt, a man with a star
while working in Tombstone at Alice’s bar
she called him her husband, he called her his wife
she thought she had made for herself a new life
but after the gunfight and his brother was dead
old Wyatt took off for the Southwest instead
and Celia Ann Blaylock was left on her own
and back to the life she had previously known
Addicted to laudanum for the pain in her head
Celia Ann Blaylock then ended up dead
The trollop of horses into our fathers minds,
Stare into the eyes of the men forever blind.
Infinitely seeing the hinges of time swinging,
Forever intensely.. For never ending.
In June of 1870, my Great Great Granddad was playing Poker in the Old West.
Even though he was shot, the law neglected to place the murderer under arrest.
My Great Great Granddad wasn't being honest, he was cheating.
He was plugged through the heart and his heart stopped beating.
When he was exposed as a cheater, the killer blew him away.
Even though it was murder, the law never made that man pay.
When my Great Great Granddad cheated the killer, it was wrong, that is something I won't deny.
But when that man got off scott free, it was also wrong, my Great Great Granddad didn't deserve to die.
(This is a fictional poem)
Monmouth, Illinois
Wyatt Earp was born right there
Can that be OK?
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