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The Americana Poems, Volume 1


 

For Stuart M. Lake, Alfred Newman,

Cyril Mockridge and John Ford
 

 

 

Life, like the movies sometimes,

is in black and white.

 

— Turner Classic Movies

 

 

PROLOGUE

 

 

 

IN THE HIGH CLOUDLESS AFTERNOON

 

Jessie James        Frank James        Cole Younger        the Dalton boys

riding

 

for their niggers mama waitin at the stove

Gettysburg                   Lee signin’ away

 

the living                     the dead     the southern rights

James boys  Frank James  Cole Younger  the Dalton boys

 

in leg irons            and ballads             robbing banks

long riders            of the grasslands

 

on the rolling hills     

the Virginia men     the Kentucky riders   comin’

 

the men of the south    bank robbers            horsemen kickin’

up the ground             the dust     

 

the grass             the blue grass riders of the good

rebel Jessie James   a wanted poster breaking the law

 

(like the north did the south)  in the sun the bright

cloudless afternoon come  the long riders

 

the brothers of the south            soldier boys     good ol’ boy

in grey work pants            patched shirts            chewing and spittin’

 

gun “pow! pow! pow!” bankers and side winders

deputies and general store  bartenders  with the good

 

whiskey ’neath the counter pow pow from the good ol’ boys raising hell

for themselves            the south

 

they shoot into the air and trees     lift beer cans off the fence post

shatter shot glasses kill for money in the cash draw the strong box

 

in the knee cap            in his god damn self righteous nigger

loving head            for singin’ his truth is marching            on

 

for the farm            and all things free

as air    and the grass of the west

 

the bottom lands of Alvin York

the hunger and the drought            that is theirs and theirs alone

 

They have come   to Town

handkerchiefs up        gun ready

 

drunk saddle sore tramps             some long in the tooth riders

the hard men            the wild bunch      ex rebels

 

they have come

whiskered and gay six shooting ex cow punchers on Sunday

 

to this Texas Mexican town men in dusters

they have come fleeing the rope 

 

in the high cloudless afternoon

 
   

GOING TO FORT APACHE

 

Old timers spit

(up the desert)

 

tobacco into

the dust

 

the miles

of mud holes

 

between

Mule Creek

 

and the fort

the coach

 

is rocking

the col.

 

and his daughter

back and forth

 

bouncing

over roads

 

into the

deep shadows

 

of canyons

the sun is

 

everywhere

and the sky

 

is hot

almost

 

white old timers

just spit

 

and joke

about

 

the rain that

never

 

falls and

how the country

 

is so big

you cant steal

 

enough of it

from the Indians

 

TO RIDE THE RIVER WITH

 

To Chuck “Boom Boom” Heston

 

Charlton Heston as Will Penny

 

‘“He can cowboy” Lee Majors in Will Penny

 

he’s a broke down fifteen

a month

hard sweatin’ good

man

 

long in the tooth

with creakin’ joints

catchin’ the morning

chill

 

he’s still a hardcase

a top hand  in the chow line

waitin’ for his biscuits and beans

cup of bitter coffee

 

Will Penny

he aint old             his days are

he’s  whipping some

fool’s ass with an iron skillet

 

take that cowpoke

from

Will Penny puncher

for forty years

still bustin’ broncs

pushin’ fifty

 

Will Penny’s

worth   more than his name

 

1967 Western film directed by Tom Gries

 
   

COOKIE OR THE PUNCHER’S LAMENT

For Walter Brennan

 

old cowboy

have

 

mercy on young

poor wranglers

 

feeds the outfit

thinks only

 

how much

there is

 

to do

keepin’

 

sweet tooth

Will Penny’s

 

fingers

out of the sugar

 

OK CORRAL

 

Three mean Texas

riders cuttin’

 

a rancher’s

fence                sun

 

bakes the ground

the yellow grass

 

three men pass

Boot Hill into town

 

lookin’ for

John H. Holliday

 
   

DOC: A GENTLEMAN OF THE SOUTH

 

For Frank Perry and Pete Hamill

 

Doc has eaten nigger food

steady with a gun and cutting cards

his lungs like the old south are gone

John H. (“Doc”) Holliday             gentleman

of Tombstone             pistol in the vest

John whispers Kate     may I have this dance

 

DREADFUL SORRY CLEMENTINE

 

 Doc has            an Indian

woman            part Mex

 

a whore            rings

in her ears

 

blouse cut            low see

the tops

 

of her tits            she’s no

lady   brown

 

as the sun            makes them

women

 

of the towns            and desert

full lipped

 

and hands            on her

hips

 

on Doc            she’s

all woman

 

Mex.    Indian            some

 

white

she belongs

 

 to Doc sorry

dreadful

 

sorry Miss

Clementine

 
   

THE LONG HARD RIDE OF JOHN H. (“DOC”) HOLLIDAY INTO THE TERRITORY

 

after eight hundred miles between

cattle towns  whores and cards 

 

you can get to know your horse

wilderness and grass he is happy

 

eight hundred miles deep

in the territory with the talking smoke

 

HE LOVES HER IN THE FIDDLER’S SONG

 

Clementine and Wyatt take a walk

he tips his hat

 

she smiles farmers ride

into town  the church steeple

 

is up the walls are being raised

listen to the fiddler

 

swing your partners

Wyatt smiles and has a dimple

 

in his cheek  tobacco

says his brother Virgil 

 

Clementine is blushing

Wyatt’s arm is holding her in a dance

 

like a husband

a man come courting

 

the first night of married life

she will not break

 

but his ands are large feet

heavy

 

he lefts his legs

the man with a gun

 

is awkward like a boy  he loves

her in the fiddler’s song

 

the stomping of his feet

the whirling of her dress

 

swing your partner and he does

 
   

TEACHING THE LONG LEGGED KID A LESSON

 

Karl Malden as Dad in One-Eyed Jacks

 

Billy the Kid             El Chivale            Long-Legged Kid

dressed like a greaser            shooting in my town

 

fucking my daughter

you got to learn kid how I keep the peace             Kid

 

with a whip             my gun and badge

I gotta whip the piss             the greaser sidewinder shit

 

and dust            the meanness

bust your gun hand that killed twenty one men

 

not countin’ greasers             indians            and niggers

break every bone  in your shooting

 

hand                make a worker a farmer

a store  clerk going to church             teaching

 

school  work your ass into the grave            it’s

better to die like      that working the life out of yourself

 

like a horse                  like a woman             a field hand

on your knees  kid       spread ’em for me            Dad One-

 

Eyed Jack

 

LIVING THE LIFE OF A DIME NOVEL

 

The marshall

kills

 

a lot of kids these

days

 

dug more graves

than an undertaker

 

keepin’

the law

 

he’s a starpacker

earns his coffee

 

bullets

and pay sitting

 

on the              walk

feet up legs

 

balancing

off the  hitchin’

 

post

eatin’ dust and takin’

 

guns of cowhands

shooting

 

and stayin’ in town

scarin’ women and children

 

most men

when they come to town

 

that’s why the marshall’s

fillin’ up

 

boothill

livin’ the life

 

of a dime novel

 
   

COURT’S IN SESSION

 

Judge Roy Bean cowboy judge and jury 

in a bar take off your hat

 

boots on feet upon the floor

no riding into saloons courts in session

 

whores outside  chewing tobacco allowed

no spittin' branding cattle ain't your own

 

talking back to Roy that’s Judge Roy

Bean holding you in contempt

 

stole a horse     hanging at noon    God rest

your unwashed horse thieving soul      I sure

 

don’t    whoring             on Sunday

fine      but you keep the noise down

 

beating your wife     tell me one thing son

did she step out of line

 

 

Walter Brennan in William Wyler’s The Westerner (1940 Western)

 

THERE IS A TREE IN YUMA

 

The bad cowboy

shot clerks drunks

nasty cowhands

 

grinned at            frightened woman

he meant them no harm

 

he hated banks

he was a crook

 

with a price on his head

handcuffs round his wrist

 

a farmer led him to town

at the end of a rope

 

he just grinned

there aint a tree anywhere

 

in Yuma

with my name on it

 

 Glenn Ford in 3:10 To Yuma, a film directed by
Delmore Daves, based on a story by Elmore Leonard

 
   

THE GOOD FARMER

 

was a dirt poor man working hard

living with his wife and  son

 

the drought helping the misery along

but this year

 

he hog tied a rustler with a bounty

on his Jayhawking head

 

and that was better then crops growing

good and ready for the table

 

thank you jesus  he thought

there is hanging in Yuma

 

a reward for the outlaw

sitting at his table waiting for some grub

 

before they take the stage

and then the 3.10 to Yuma

 

Van Heflin in 3:10 to Yuma

 

DESTRY

 

James Stewart in Destry Rides Again

 

the young deputy’s

guns are toys but the weapon

 

is his mouth he’s a country boy

with tall stories a grin

 

with the badge

the whores are pulling hair

 

throwing slopjars whipping

shit off their tits

 

out

of their big blond wigs 

 

for sweet Destry (bet he’s got

a cherry) he is so pure

 

and white little in his pants

they call him Mr. Law and Order

 

and say he is tough

enough to drink a glass of milk

 
   

MOLLY OF THE RAILS

 

Barbra Stanwyck in Union Pacific* (1954)

 

Molly moved like the Plains

Indian

 

the mailcar’s her home

on wheels

 

cuttin’ through the wilderness

Molly   lass with the Irish tongue 

 

talkin’ about the land and children

puttin’ down her feet 

 

in a place all her own

Molly with the dinner bucket

 

(like mother) bucket

the ash and sand of the rails

 

and Plains            in her hair

Black Irish Molly sunburned and dark

 

like the men layin’

the track

 

has slept in tents

toiling  her way

 

across the west

like a man  

 

she rides these cars

like a horse she is Molly

 

of the Union Pacific

Molly of the rails

 

Molly the conductor’s

daughter            Molly with the mail

 

* directed by Cecil B. DeMille

 

A SLAVE IS YOURS (EVEN AFTER DEATH)

 

Tom Doniphon rancher -- built

this country with a gun            and slave

 

found a woman

like a homestead

 

made a claim

(she knew his heart

 

his silences

and whores)

 

his was

a love with respect

 

for a good woman

is bible children

 

and company

in the winter

 

the long cold nights

Tom Doniphon said

 

nothing just came

a courting

 

with a swagger

hat in hand

 

gun within reach

there is danger

 

in little cattle towns

and women

 

kept his mouth

shut

 

hat off respect

the home and woman

 

treat your heroes

like cattle

 

gentle with a firm hand

Tom Doniphon

 

is the backbone

of this town

 

with a handshake and man’s

word this is the west

 

of his grandfather

father

 

and Owen Wister

in his coffin

 

they placed

his boots on his feet

 

combed what was left

of his hair            he was

 

dead without a dime

no one remembered him

 

except his nigger and lady

with the cactus

 

rose

he loved them both

 

the women like his horse

the nigger better than most

 

white men he knew

friends are far and few

 

a good slave and woman

are yours even after death

 

John Wayne and Willie Stoud, slave and master,

in John Ford’s The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance

 

EPILOGUE

 

 

 

A PHOTOGRAPH OR TWO

BASED ON PHOTOS FROM WISCONSIN DEATH TRIP*

 

these are the family histories in the box camera

the  false fronts of main street

 

the common death of the everyday towns

a “Negro” cutting hair in his barbershop

 

“kiss the flag nigger”

so mysterious now

 

this  simple America nobody remembers

but  tramps living the hard times in freight cars

 

colored ladies eating oysters siting on chairs in front

of their cabins and shacks

 

talking about a “Negro “farmer beaten

by the neighborhood Christians with a poker

 

* A collection of photographs by Charles Van Schaick, complied by Michael Lesy