Poem Hunter
LW (December 11,1973 / )


Poem By Lindz Williamson

I was on my knees
seeing the dirt
feeling the stars falling by me
when I realized none of what I'd left behind
was really behind
being there at all
Earlier on, mix of juniper and sage
and bitter wind
buffalo grunts and a horse named Cisco
letting his breath fill the numbness
mixing with the neutralness of the horizon
the sway in my back
loose in the saddle
Back to those great Canadian novels
blond men with Indian blood
joining the nation with spike and Chinese spit.
And what do I really know about being distinct?
This is (or I mean)
this was the frontier (the front of being here)
Hot, dry, cold, open
you can't build without water or rights
and the things that matter is that a man had a wife, a son
a little girl and a retriever golden or black or whatever
And at
the end of it all is me here on the weekend
allowing the beer and tequila to make me laugh
not what I really want
stepping outside, warm September wind
humming bottle in hand
sweet grassy smell of horse shit
and feeling all those stars fall
I can't help but sink down
let my body shake with the anxiety of not knowing
what's west of western.
My eyes are only eyes of openness,
My brain only built by what I've seen
Change my geography and you can't help but change me.

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