Poem written in a Laundromat or Cowboy Poetry for a Bull-rider's love letters

Poem written in a Laundromat or

Cowboy Poetry for a Bull-rider’s love letters

For Jewell Kilcher
[2nd best poet living in Stephenville, Texas / Cowboy Capital of the World]
by Quasimofo



1st Spur: “I’d love every square inch of you if you didn’t have so many curves..”
it began..ending with “you and me on the futon sweet heifer!”.. —{he was a bit rough around the edges}….this 5 foot 5 redneck of a 140 lbs. rough riding on-and-off again rodeo cowboy who looked like an overgrown prairie dog burnt. But he was pure-bred Texican part Mexican tall-tellin’ it how it is am was.. raised poor in front of a box fan and whose downfall wasn’t his upbringin’—the winters got so cold they put antifreeze in the toilet with a Bowie knife handy. He snarled & limped temping thru the cheese factory we both worked thumping lonely pangs cacti-cupid loosed upon the rump of his heart.. the blood had reversed course to a slow trickle drawl keelboatin’ loves’ lassoed master across mountain slopes in cannibal agonies lighter than a sage-brush [*which is not a chance encounter with a wise person or a utensil for painting masterpieces]. Yep Howdy!..despite his buckskinned leather longings, bull-riding paid by the hour—and at 7 seconds a pop..well, it didn’t cover the sponge baths during ER visits.. Never ponder with a prodder or branding iron..!

2nd Spur: ‘Women are tougher than bulls’, i said, ‘you never bronc them—they bronc you’,
..but god are they lovely to ride…using both hands.. he said the only thing he knew in that dept. was if you ever get a woman in bed, go under the covers and lick like crazy—he preferred to give things they’re simpler names since life was just a horseshoes game—the fun part of this therapy was to kick everyone’s cockeyed ass! “Hey, wouldn’t it be cool if instead of the running of the bulls in Spain, they had the running of the women senoritas?!” let’s go snipe hunting on Brokeback Mt.!

3rd Spur: Real spurs don’t jingle-jangle cause real Caboas are at least knee-deep in the shit-kicking. Rattlesnake belts with big buckles are for poseurs too… Man wasn’t put on this earth to be another man’s slave…;he is directionally impaired but should know right from wrong..and that the south will never rise again—cause one time in mid-air he met God who told him so…
the com fort wild er ness front ier rikkity-racks on ranch hands
cow hands herding the ancestors who got along with indians without their dinner
reservations… dark overcoat strollin’ up the ‘i’m ok, you’re ok corral’ Riding into the sun’s a load of crap—even with a wide-brimmed hat (you pay more for the gallon with these too)..

4th Spur: the pioneers on trails had read instruction manuals for how to commit hara-kiri using fire ants. They dusted off and pouted those Saint Louis Lamour lips.. Buffalo chips were used to start fires on the plains, and could be used as frisbees by chitlins. Laundry was an all day task if clean water could be found—not like the quarters courting soft wash permanent press fabric softener stain-remover ‘get along little doggies, you’re no misfortune’.. hand me that bleach, we’re saving work and time but we’re still missing our prime [ribs]…

5th Spur: i drove him home after night shift to his trailer house, helped with the punctuation <,.:;(> spelling made sure he scrawled his true feelings . he handed me bovine bottlenecks and said he’d one day cook t-bones for me on the hibachi he’d used only for bologna till now. One day you’re gonna win the ‘Pullhisbeer Prize in Poetry’! he bartered… ..what’s life but reciting Stetson Shakespeare.. drinking beers
with your peers? I never saw him again.. ..heard he won $500.
…finally finally..
he made it out the chute…

0 thoughts on “Poem written in a Laundromat or Cowboy Poetry for a Bull-rider's love letters

  1. I love bull-writers. They’re the best at what they do and they’ll tell you if you ask.
    My favorite spur is four. Is “missing our prime (rib)” in any way an allusion to Adam’s rib? Even if it’s not, I enjoyed the word play it created in my head.
    Four referenced the title more then the other lines and I like the way it frames those who lived (live?) the life apart from those that consume the myth with posed Saint Louis L’amour lips.

  2. Thanks there, cowhand. Actually, i didn’t think of the whole Adam\Eve thing when writing Spur 4 and the ribs…it came out mostly thru the working out with sound…’time’ and ‘prime’ (something deep), then circled back to subject material tie-in [ribs] (something every cowboy likes); but hey, that’s a really good connection and fits because the poem is about a bull-rider needing help wooing a woman (thru a love letter which he asked me to edit and critique)…there wasn’t much i did to the letter except correct spelling by the way. I’ll get back to you with more, i have to go to work. Glad you got the contrast theme in #4 too, which i went back and later edited to 4th Spur* with the asterisk that looks sorta like a spur?

  3. Yeah, i went back later and edited some to the original that i didn’t see before…funny how that fresh perspective works. In dedication, added Ty Murry [2nd best bullrider]…he and Jewel (the folk-singer/pop star) have been together for a while living on some remote ranch here in S’ville and were recently featured on some country reality show, US magazine, etc.
    And cleaned up (or made dirtier)2nd spur with: “whoop” instead of ‘kick’ (more countrified) and substituted “naked senoritas” for “women senoritas”. ‘women senoritas’ is redundant kind of like saying ‘queso cheese’ and plus ‘naked’ adds more of an erotic element and is more typical guy talk. This followed by: ‘let’s please forego going snipe hunting on Brokeback Mt.!’ (more in context of topic discussed, even though whole Brokeback Mt. thing is old by now…i might change that.) that’s just a few.
    Cool b-w photo of laundromat! I was gonna send in old 70’s pic from Sex Pistols propoganda featuring 2 cowboys with hats boots shirts and vest but no pants with ‘nubs’ touching…one straightening the other’s collar, but figured that might be a bit much. Whole piece was meant to be parody of cowboy poetry but at same time telling story of actual aquaintance bobbing in and out of seriousness. Had fun writing it and creating an existential microcosm!

  4. This is a wild fuckin’ ride. I love it. It took me like a week just to build up the courage to tackle this neon purple bull. Or whatever color it is.
    Some great lines here, man, too many to mention really. One of my favorites:
    “He snarled & limped temping thru the cheese factory we both worked thumping lonely pangs cacti-cupid loosed upon the rump of his heart..”
    This work has the frentic hallucinagenius I’ve come to expect, Quasi. Good job.

Leave a Reply