Then there was an interlude
in which the brawl before our
indented eyes went on.
Auto-destruction he breathed
and I in that time was
suspended
Edward Dorn, poet, from Gunslinger , 1968
. . .you musn’t slap my
Gunslinger on the back
in such an off hand manner
I think the sun, the moon
and some of the stars are
kept in their tracks
by this Person’s equilibrium
or at least I sense some effect
on the perigee and appogee of all
our movements in this, I can’t quite say,
man’s presence, the setting sun’s
attention I would allude to
and the very appearance
of his neurasthenic mare
lathered, as you can see, with abstract fatigue–
PHOTO: Clint Walker, Cheyenne, Golden Era TV Cowboy
