173: Strong Men, Riding Horses


<music> I'm Tracy K Smith and this is the slowdown <music> in her poem. Strongmen Riding Horses Wandel and Brooks describes men of power and ambition men who believed in westward expansion and manifest destiny men who sought to tame a land men who craved freedom and who ended up subjugating countless others in pursuit of their private dreams the poem speaker. Jerseys these men on movie and television screens but she doesn't see herself in them. She says I am not like that. I pay rent an adult by illegible landlords run. If robers call our present day heroes don't much resemble the T._V. Cowboys of that earlier time but perhaps the havoc their appetites unleash upon the environment and upon the lives of others others is familiar. Maybe that's one reason why today's poem by two Shawny Doshi Takes Gwendolyn Brooks his title as its own Indo. She's poem. I am made aware of the speakers. Occurs private struggle with the hard headedness and ham fisted -ness of men they may as well be riding around on horses twirling Lassos in the air. The threat they pose is eerie but would also familiar strongmen riding horses by two Shawny Doshi after Gwendolyn Brooks the men in my life comeback strong fat fat off the agony of summer's gone these men no longer think to write or call before riding into dreams with Luger's and Stephenson's on horses all wrong. They charge in they charge in like assassins through floorboards and bearings the men in my life gross spring-like out west cowboys with Tasha's and Gingham chests adrift on the lawns of Banishment. Oh the infinity of a grown man who waits the candidates range from primate to giant faces morose as funerals five years unravel revel into five hundred so many disappeared miles the men in my life hold secrets like spears a thousand would be husband circle the border reaching for naval face. Ace breastplate rope and from everything you imagined that was not comes dawn spidery and wet releasing them back to the West to where they wrote in from sunset onset restores them with Harmonicas rested and keen for a battering again yesterday's blue tongue blades of grass all the paths to longing are recurring and paved with orange trees trees earthquakes other women's men from here. The future blooms like a prehistoric fish of hope flat headed obdurate the lesson being to submerge. Urge to listen to the music of bones crying as they are changed from Gills to hoof except for the fossils gathered at our feet that insist with an architecture ancient and strong so what can we say about empires of harmony of men who ride horses treacherous as they are. We must counter these phantoms desert. I'd except for sleep. Nothing is ever finished and all that remains of night is a rooftop in summer a strong wind from the sea birds. Hey a family of men with high foreheads picking their teeth. They are lurching towards you with Balsam and pasted down hair breath Jiang Li with fear to have survived the ever-present restlessness of stars wake now.

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