poems about my observations, pt. 1

cows and people

a cow named beth

a cow was buried
yesterday on the plains
heifer named beth, belonging to a
family named carroll

their sons picked a spot
on a hill beside the first home place
where logs sagged and wagon wheels
betrayed the forgetfulness of men

but they never forgot beth,
until their children's children came back
to see the land before it was sold

now beth lies under a hayfield
and new cattle breathe dusty air

and beth lives on in the dust, and
the family is gone
from pictures to recognize and remember

that once we buried a cow named beth
belonging to a family named carroll

hank carroll

hank carroll feared god
but not like he feared his mother
like covered wagons from kansas to wyoming
she did what she set her mind to

including bringing her sons to church
and the fences would sag and hank woke early
on monday mornings to make lost time
and the pliers spoke in whispered voices

begging for leaving, and for staying
he hated every western movie
because cowboys live in boredom and middles
between life and town and home and farms

now in old age he sees a t shirt
and nike sneakers walk in a bar
and wishes he had gone to see
the world he saw in magazines

before it grew to scrape the sky
and mother and father were still at home
in the house they built on rocky soil
where sage and sunsets ruled

somewhere hank carroll still rambles through
pastures and great wide open rangeland
urging his horse always faster in the hopes
that the dirt will turn to nothing

and maybe he'll be free from church then
and his mother and father and cows and brothers
he stops and fires at an antelope
too far, he knows

he misses

they scatter and take their young away
and he wishes he could join them.

---

hoping to continue my journeys across various american countrysides soon. always more to write about.

-koh