Sport 19: Lightworks
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galloped across the brain
on a white charger
yellow hair billowing
behind in streamers
of frenzied purpose:
his mission to make the
plains safe for grass
they laughed at his haircut
but he had the last laugh:
from a hundred yards
he could shoot through
the black heart of the ace
of spades or the liquid
brown eye of a grazing bison
like silver bullets his flashing
hooves would leap over synapses
and throb down the mountainside
the drumming echoing in the canyons
the huge shaggy heads would shake
and shiver with fear and anger
but he'd describe perfect circles with his
ten gallon hat of whitest white and whoop
in such a softly dying cadence
all the shaggy heads would
lie down on the grass
and gently die