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Jonathan Moya Sep 23
Rapid City wears its patriotism like a shroud.
Corner streets are populated with less than
life-size statues of past presidents
squinting at the distant Black Hills
where the grandeur of Mt. Rushmore
casually crumbles their bronze dreams.

Wax settlers, loggers and gold miners
stake claims with souvenir hunters
touring a mine, panning for fool’s gold.

In nearby Custer, 75 breaths  from Wounded Knee,
shops hawk Chief Joseph, Sitting Bull, Geronimo t-shirts
proclaiming them “ The Original Founding Fathers.”
Mixed in are those in star-spangled letters and fireworks
proudly streaming “Welcome to America. Now Speak English.”

Rushmore was dynamited from a cliff
by a creator who spent the rest of his life
erecting grand Confederate gestures
out of ****** Georgia quartz monzonite—
finished and opened 100 years to the day
after Abraham Lincoln’s assassination.  

Thirty minutes from Rushmore, existing in its shadow
on private land filled with dusty trails,
unfinished after seventy years,
probably still unfinished after twenty  more,
facing away from these great stone faces,
emerging from the side of great Thunderhead Mountain,

on an ivory stead with a mane of flowing river and wind,
exists the Oglala Lakota warrior Tasunke Witko
the worm of Crazy Horse the Old and Rattling Blanket Woman,
sibling of Little Hawk and Laughing One, memory of the spirit of
Black Buffalo and White Cow who walked with an Iron Cane,
all enclosed with him in this massive breath of white stone.

The history of this great Indian space stretches the land,
four times higher than the Statue of Liberty,
extending beyond the warrior frown, the pointing left arm.
The horse’s ear alone is the size of a rusty  reservation bus.
When finished it will be the largest sculpture in history,
bigger than the land, breath and all of Indian memory.

It was the Vision Quest of Chief Henry Standing Bear to show the whites that the red man had great heroes, too.
In a man named Korczak he found a kindred spirit,
a storyteller in stone, a survivor of Omaha Beach,
who when the first wife faltered, found a second
who gave him enough children to carry, sculpt the Bear Dream.  

The big chief’s face is still the only finished part.
Korczak’s wife and children toil with the rest,
struggling to capture the essence of a warrior
who never allowed his shadow to be snared
in the false glow of the white man’s light,
trusting only the rain beams that fall

onto his people, mountains, plains and buffaloes,
onto Paha Sapa, “the heart of everything that is,”
where the Lakota huddled while the world was created,
now a land of broken treaties and dying dreams,
drenched in the dust of tears underneath,
while this white face torn from red gazes East.
Wounded Knee is not only the sight of an 1800’s Indian Massacre but the rumored burial spot of Sitting Bull.

The grand confederate gesture refers to Stone Mountain park, a Mt Rushmore etched with the faces of the Confederacy: Robert E. Lee,
Ya Boi Sep 15
Thoughts of you sing softly in my head
Ringing in on silver horse
Crashing in the room around me
Bringing down my marble home
Lashing at the darkness  now around me
Screaming in my ear the thought of you
complete regression to who I am
shattering my chest like breaking glass
I shrink down in part of rubble
Instinct to crack crash and burn
Your singing torturing me with every rattle in my skull
The only memory that doesn't ****
Only a voice
jcl Sep 12
it is what you most fear, your reoccurring nightmare, the thing you can not grasp, understand, that shorts your brain, that death is the end, there is no after life, no purpose to your existence, no just god sitting on a throne, dispensing justice, punishing the evil, rewarding the good. reality is too hard and harsh, you pray to god, is it true, you are more my creation than i am yours.

how do you reconcile the fact that you know so deep down inside is true. you lie to yourself, suppress the fear, repress the thoughts, ignore what you see with you own eyes. the fear rises, the anxiety worsens, the insomnia lengthens, you fall prey to cognitive dissonance. to understand is to forgive, the anger, the irrational behavior.

the idea that you are mortal is unbearable, that you will die, your flesh rot, and be forgotten. how any man can make sense of it and live, court, marry, have children, when the world has spun out of control, the three horses are here. the pale horse is coming, it will soon be time to die.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Four_Horsemen_of_the_Apocalypse
Zywa Aug 4
I cycle along,

the horse watches me, maybe –


I'll stop and touch him.
"Dat het dier je zag" ("That the animal saw you", 2019, Marjoleine de Vos)

Collection "SoulSenseSun"
Tyler Harper Aug 3
Amateur's saddle
Riding in the rodeo
Yee'n their last haw
LK Aug 2
His coal black fur,
His gray outlines,
His snow white paint,
His marbled eyes.

His soft pink nose,
His frizzy mane,
His wide bald face,
His foil name.

His sliding shoes,
His four tan feet,
His broad black chest,
His bared white teeth.

His unfinished work,
His unfair shot,
His innocence,
And all he taught.

His forward ears,
His lucid mind,
His special place,
In a too short life.
Missing  "A Lil Bit Decisive" aka Lil Bit, a horse I shared with my favorite person in the world, Richard, during a very special time. Lil Bit was so special to us, but passed suddenly at a young age.
LK Aug 2
I had waited for you every day of my life
I had looked unto you to help deal with my strife

Just a day is how long that sweet feeling survived
That night that I found you, that night you arrived

And though I’d learned only one thing from my past
That good things come slow, but would not last

I believed in you, my Glitzy girl,
Once upon a time, in long-ago world

I learned from you we are our own
We are who we are within our bones

And to force something not meant to be
Is a fruitless, drawn-out tragedy

I taught you things not another could
A journey, I’m afraid, was misunderstood

I had given countless hours away
To push you through each stubborn day

Only then to figure out that I
Was only there to help you by

It was with someone else you belong
I was there only to help you along

And looking back on what we had
There’s just one thing that makes me sad

Our journey I have not and do not regret
Even through all of the blood and the sweat

I thought it was you who were meant for me
but me for you is what turned out to be

And that’s okay, but now left behind
I hurt that you will not look back on and find

All of the hard work that I did for you
And, in return, love me for it too

Just know that I did give it all that I had,
Through the all of the weather, the good and the bad

So that you could find your happiness
Even if with another, in a far away place

If I could call you back to me
Know I'd leave you there to be

I'm glad I could help you find your way
But know that I still feel the pain

I'm glad I could give to you the world
though it still hurts me, Glitzy girl
To Glitzy, my reining horse.
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