writing a second poem today
whilst watching westerns, alliteratively,
bat tombstone wyatt palladin and
a maverick ranger but no zorro
no pecos anyone wild, bill, or other
nothing deep or existential
no awe, angst, or wonderment
no depth, no passion, no insights
no worries...
what is this poem doing here?
(well... it is lame)
deadrock reservation
june 2025
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