June Issue- Week 1
June 2, 2013
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SHAWNEE TRAIL
Come all you young cowboys so young and so hale
And I’ll tell you what happened on the old Shawnee Trail.
Come listen beside me and I’ll tell you the tale.
I got me a job for pretty good pay
Bein’ a wrangler for a rancher, the name of Bob Gray.
Taking ponies to Sedalia for a dollar a day.
We rode out one morning, the cowboys and me
Captain Gray lead us all, on his mare named Marie
My pal rode a paint, the one named Pawnee.
That horse was a killer, but we didn’t know then
How that paint had hurt more than a dozen good men
He would throw a good rider, time and again.
When that rider was down, God it was sad
That horse would go crazy, plum ravin’ mad
He’d stomp on the rider, and kick him real bad
Til the rider was dead and mashed in the ground
That horse wouldn’t stop but just whirl all around
And stomp the poor cowboy, that was there lying down.
That horse was smart; he would wait for his time
He’d be fine for a while and then turn on a dime
He’d spin like a top when commitin’ his crime
And then he’d start bucking, my God what a sight
He’d heave off the ground, goin’ high as a kite
No cowboy could ride him, you couldn’t set tight.
Captain Grey told my pal, “Don’t ride him you see
Just leave that damn paint horse to someone like me.
‘cause I’m gonna shoot him, I damn guarantee.”
Maybe my pal was too foolish and bold
He just didn’t believe in what he’d been told.
He said,” That horse is fine, he jist needs controlled
I am really your man, I aint terror struck
I’ll soon see if this outlaw can buck
If he tries to throw me, he’ll be down on his luck”
And he saddled the paint and with the ponies we rode
My pal seemed to have him, he didn’t explode
He seemed to be calm, like in a church mode.
Well we herded those ponies like they had wings
Until we got south of the town Baxter Springs
Now I seen some sights and some terrible things
But nothing prepared me for the sight I would see
When that damn paint horse started his spree
He spun and jumped higher then a goddamn dog flea
He was bucking and screaming like a mad grizzly bear
That was roused from his sleep and come from his lair
My Pal couldn’t stay on him, he hadn’t a prayer.
He reached for his night latch, to help himself stay
Screwed In the saddle, this wern’t child’s play
That paint was on his hind feet, when the saddle broke ‘way
The latigo busted and my pal hit the ground
And that paint was on him in one single bound
A kicking’ and stompin’ my pal who was downed
There was blood on the saddle and blood on the ground
My pal was a yellin’, a terrible sound
But that damn horse was still on him, he wasn’t unwound
Bob Grey rode up yelling, “get out of the way
Cause this is that Devils Goddamn last day”
He pulled out his pistol, a Colt forty four
And 6 shots went off with a hell of a roar.
That Paint went down, all covered with gore
He won’t kill no riders, not anymore.
But my pal lay dead there right next to that horse
Their blood run together as a matter of course
All in a pool as if from the same source.
In all my life, I seen nothin’ worse.
All we could do was stand there and curse
Our hearts was sad and filled with remorse.
We buried my pal right there on the trail
Wrapped in a blanket, his face was so pale
And over his grave the coyotes would wail
The bones of the Paint still mark the spot
So when you ride by, your horse at a trot
Jist give my pal more than a thought
Some horses are killers, that’s all I can say
And if you find one you best stay away
You may try to ride him but it’ll be your last day
On the trail near that pile of rottin’ horse bone
Listen to the south wind with its sad moan
And think of my pal, lying there all alone.
Merle Grabhorn is a rancher living in the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma. Yes, he does own and ride a horse, and yes, he drives a pickup truck down dusty dirt roads. And like all ranchers, he diversifies, growing wheat, soybeans, and milo, along with the hay that the cattle need in the winter.
His family came west by covered wagon in the 1850s and homesteaded. Some of his family drove horses and cattle along the Shawnee Trail. This trail is the South West’s eastern-most, earliest south-north trail. Before the railroads crossed the Mississippi River, Texas cattle were driven east to New Orleans. When the Pacific Railroad terminated in Sedalia, Missouri, cattlemen found it easier to take their cattle north. Using the rails, cattle could then be shipped to slaughter houses in St. Louis and Chicago much quicker than when traveling by ship from New Orleans. Horses could be driven north on the trail and sold to the Army in Sedalia.
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First Choral Sonnet
Now penetrators concentrated stones
Of silver pierce in shafts with sharpened picks,
Mining her guts, as mother Tellus groans,
In rival disembowelment to affix
Themselves. These delvers, axing depths, intent
On access to the earthen entera
Of ore, all rupturing her fundament
In rock, would argentine phenomena
Confirm. In Gaian innards grubbing, down
Toward the inmost domain of bowels they dig.
They’d shiver fundatorial earth, her brown
Intestines breaching where the find is big.
The pithiest sinuosity, fulfilled
With argent marrow, must be mined and milled.
Second Choral Sonnet
Nevadan cavers excavational
Evisceration speed in Davidson,
Where fissured strata, fused with mineral
Profundities, afforded by the ton,
Are struck. As burrowed indentations spread
In deeper ores of pitted danger, so
Interior horrors must be hazarded,
For ground spates shoot into the mines below
Five hundred feet with permeat magnitude
In steam. Thus noxious burrows, nether bound,
With vapid calefaction are imbued,
Where delves are veins with fervid trouble found.
Indented Davidson is disemboweled,
Down where her hollowed viscera unfold.
F. L. Light has written many sonnets and this piece is from his drama Bonanza Mammon Booms, a drama of the Comstock Lode, which is set in Virginia City, Nevada. The protagonist is William Sharon, principal of the Bank of California branch in Virginia City. The Lode was about two thirds silver and one third gold. Virginia City is now a tourist site. Alex Hyde-White, a well-known actor, is producing Mr. Light’s translation of *Oedipus the King* for Audible.com. *Antigone* and *Women of Trachis*, performed by other actors, are now listed there.
Tales of the Whispering Basket Video
March 28, 2013
I stumbled on this by accident, and had to share…
Want more?
Read the review- Tales of the Whispering Basket by Larry Spotted Crow Mann
He begins with his Native Nipmuck tongue-
Wunne-Nog-Kishkoad-Tuonk! “Greetings, glad you’re here!”
I had the honor of attending the AWP 2013 Association of Writers and Writing Programs in Boston a few weeks ago and here Larry Spotted Crow Mann say this in person. He belongs to a group, WHIM Old School Indian Reading, featuring Monty Campbell, Jr., Barbara Mann, Paul Hapenny, Stephanie Elliott, Larry S Mann- and most used their native American names. Meet the new Indian Movement: W.H.I.M. (Woodlands Horizon Indian Movement for the politically correct and Woodlands Hotties Indian Movement for those who can still laugh). This multi-genre reading panel is comprised of Old School Woodlands Indians who read from their works and Larry Spotted Crow Mann performed the sacred drum song.
Hearing Larry play and sing a drum song was AWESOME! It was moving. His book is also moving.
Tales From the Whispering Basket is a book for all ages. Plain and Simple. His stories drafted from long passed down oral stories of generation Nipmuck to Nipmuck child from family and friends should be a task admired. I am currently collecting my oral memory stories told at gathering and from my own family members, and it is a hard task to compile details without muddling them up. Children should have this book in their hands, I would say reading ages and up. You may laugh when I say this, but it is in big print compared to some books I have in possession- a plus for the over 50 crowd (and I am smiling, but hey its true!)
The book starts off with a very well written introduction and goes into short stories- Deal Me In is a great read for those of us who like a slice of mystery with our slide of hand. A stranger knocks on the door while his Nipmuck clan play cards… Once again, a great read for young and old alike. Three more stories, and I don’t want to give it all away, then he goes into telling the story of how baskets play an important role in his tribes history and I suspect many tribes history. It is a heartwarming story which chronicles the journey of a sacred Nipmuck basket and how it affects everyone who come in contact with it; speaking real and painful issues facing native people yesterday and today.
Now to the meat- Larry’s Poetry- ‘I Have Been Here Before’…
…Ah Yes,
I have been here.
Half eaten worms have joined forces to extricate the nonbelievers.
Sanity stored and hidden in the usual place.
Hidden to self, for itself…
Gems of prose are weaved throughout each piece, like his ancestors baskets, and stories. Before I saw Larry read, I had wondered how I could bring the Native American tongue to these pages. Not wanting to be all about the great American Cowboy heroes, I am glad he consented to sharing his voice within Cowboy Poetry Press. Not because I feel the cowboy and Indian need to stand side by side, but because the culture is rich and should be shared, and in that way stand side by side.
Everyone’s side of the story needs to be told. I want to wipe out the old western shows which stung my mind with false history, eradicate Hollywood’s crap, and sit within the pow wow of my own native heritage (Cherokee Nation) and soak it all in. We can all learn from past mistakes to blessings. Larry’s book is one of many I hope to bring to the circle.
Larry’s book is the first of his journey into writing, and quite a delightful read, as said a few paragraphs ago, for young to old ages. Visit his website, Larry Spotted Crow Mann- Whispering Basket, where you can purchase his book and read more! We hope Larry will graciously submit works, along with his other brothers and sisters I met at AWP!
Photo from top of reveiw, above, was willfully and graciously given for use by Larry Spotted Crow Mann for use on Cowboy Poetry Press site, no one has permission to take it for their own personal use. Permission must be given by photo owner, Larry Spotted Crow himself, written permission may be made through his contact on Whispering Basket website.
Photo on bottom, above, is proof the author Elizabeth Akin Stelling, managing editor of Cowboy Poetry Press, whom read this book; if you notice, my computer corner and bed coverings could not be totally edited, the book finds no rest on my nightstand.