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Jade Musso Apr 2014
On a Tuesday afternoon
we are all in one place so
an outing is long over-due.
Let’s go out for drinks, I suggest
and we agree—as long as we can wear whatever.

On a Tuesday night
I pick the girls up, avidly
avoiding the gaze of your window
in a building forced to live above you.

In Geronimo’s on a Tuesday night
I order ‘Red Sun’, she orders ‘Spicy Blood Orange’
& the other orders wine.
Mine is pink—it’s too strong, no more please.
Well you said ‘for drinks’! they complain
as if I’ve betrayed a pact.

She orders another, ‘Appaloosa Sangria’
and she’s so tiny when the waitress looks at my full glass
—Embarrassing.
I hate the sliding bathroom door where I am
alone with my thoughts for 2.7 minutes but
I’m antsy—time to go

In my Audi on a Tuesday night
I want dessert; I want a donut.
Dunkin it is.

In Dunkin Donuts on a Tuesday night
Tiny tells me she wants to cuddle
sometimes. She’s drunk.
I order a chocolate glazed donut to a poor man with Hispanic features
who is working alone
The homeless lady won’t stop talking and we wont stop laughing
in the Dunkin bathroom.
I heard everything, she says as we leave and giggle in terror.

In my Audi on a late Tuesday night
I don’t want to go back to school yet—I have an idea.
Post Road is empty; I’m hyper-aware
of the black Dodge pick-up driving past.
I don’t question if it’s you.
Did you see me?
Of course you saw me, my car is
unavoidable; it’s **** & white.

In The Grape on a late Tuesday night
there is no one I know so I trail
Wine and Tiny trails me.
I know friends of friends, say Hi, hi, hi
You look cute, so do you! Yay! hug Okay bye, bye, bye
Tiny drinks another with Wine and I’m still
sober where I want to be,
making memories without you, ha.
But it’s time to go back to hellhole and these people kinda ****.

In my Audi for the last time on a late Tuesday night
Mahan lot full, duh.
Quick Center lot full, duh.
Bellarmine lot full, ****!
Regis lot—Where’s your car? It’s got to be here . . .
black Dodge pick-up backed in nicely, I wish I could park beside.
What did you do on a Tuesday night?
Regis lot full, are you kidding?
Tiny has motion sickness, she’s quite a drag
I wonder if my friend nearby, with the golf cart, can drive us back
But **** it, we can walk ten minutes in the cold ‘cuz
I’ve got my jacket and gloves.

In McInnes on a late Tuesday night
Wine goes to bed, Tiny calls for a reinforcement
who is waiting at our door.
Questions with an upward inflection fill my bedroom as if she can’t
take care of herself—her support can barely support himself.
I write a long note to you on my computer on my bed because you ****.
I get a Do you mind if Support sleeps over just this once to make sure I’m okay? text
Which means I won’t get sleep due to overweight heavy breathing
Fine, I’m backed into a corner.
& I know that after my third attempt of slumber, I will end up crying
on the couch in the living room. I should have stayed home.

On an early Wednesday morning
I stuff a bag of clothes, my retainer case, and Berner & Holes and
I power-walk to my car in Jogues—7 minutes, probably or less
& drive the 5 minutes home before the tears fall.
There’s a cop parked beside Pine Creek Deli,
I wonder if he wonders why an Audi is up so late.

In [address] on an early Wednesday morning
my dad is in his boxers in the middle of the stairs.
What are you doing? he asks and I snap back because
Isn’t it obvious what someone would be doing at 2:43 am?
My bed is quiet and my mind is loud wondering—
Did you have fun tonight? for the both of us.
r Sep 2014
you came to the rodeo
with your latest portfolio
of sidekick apparatchi(c)ks

colorful lily - a realpolitik mariposa
and gloriosa - tall like a ponderosa
while i rode the appaloosa-
cool like - little joe

do they make you hum
a sweet song like i do?

sitting on your spanish saddle
booted to skeedaddle
when i beat the buzzer
while buzzards circled-
beneath a purple sun

you came that time
when i rode
-on the blue mesa.

r ~ 9/24/14
katrinawillrich Mar 2015
Lily pad clarinet
Prune flute Carrot orange pull
Appaloosa pattern fur coat cross a
Hot pink cello zip
Peridot cymbals
Neon tumbleweed drums
All cause I wanna know
What tacky sounds like.



Jan 15th, 2015
Alysha L Scott Aug 2012
don't look, I
run with the wind, amok gilted hands
fast lacing,
i've only got six fingers saved for
dead kachinas, and I'm

wheeling rough
through the underbrush;
mixed Wiley yellow, willow
peering in on my schemes, paint
pallet dragging leaves
over the hills and holes of
my body's deepest grief

so brush up the tic
and wipe off the blood,
if i'm treading through this
horse hyde, then lift
up my red dress
and sift out the weeds
 
bramble ramble, ramble
soothsayer hanging bones from
his swollen empty gut-- I

got a rain-stick, talking-stick
Yellow Wampum floating, bagging
sick sweat, for Appaloosa, holy, holy

leave, god anger ugly,
golden painted leaves

and if i'm too swollen, and if you're too
sullen-- i've got a bag of névé rocks for you
so hitch up the tobacco and wait
for tomorrow

my deer running, hoof trotting, snow
blowing legs will be comin' soon.
Thomas W Case Aug 2021
Dreams lost,
like golden fields
of youth.

Hay bales dapple
my mind;
if only that
appaloosa could
nibble me now.

Dandelions and clover
for the
pretend wife,

a **** dog and
lots of lonely
acres for the
real boy.
Aztec Warrior Nov 2015
Scent Of A Woman**

It’s ironic, funny and strange,
even iconic,
like those Pillars of Atlantis
at world’s end;
water logged
seaweed covered,
yet still guarding
long past City Gates.
~~~
Oh, I have played the fool,
the playful court jester;
have left witty comments
to elicit a smile or two.
I have been a hero,
wielded the Sword of Un,
played La Mancha’s
Quixote, windmill slayer,
fighter for Dulcinea’s sacred honor.
I rode Appaloosa bare back
painted in warrior red
leaving my blood
soaking the banks of Sand Creek,
and valley’s of Wounded Knee.
~~~
Yes, all this
I have seen and done.
And yet not once
has the scent of a woman
said,” Come home to me.
Kiss me into the night.
Hold me until
the morning’s light.”

Aztec Warrior 11.7.15
John MacAyeal Mar 2015
One night after work
A bunch of the guys in the call center
Invited me out for drinks/ice cream/book group
Or something
And though I was sure it was a set up
To get back at me
For having squishy shoes and a dry wit
I went along
First we went to a tiger-kitten fight
I advised betting on the tiger
But they bet on the hundred kittens
ranged against the representative of Siberia
But the kittens lazed where they were
And the tiger fell asleep
No fight
We all got our money back
I said I bet we can win at something
And so we went to a horse race
Lined up was a cayuse, an appaloosa, a Claybank Dun, a Tennessee walking horse, even a Przewalski's horse (aka a Dzungarian)
But the equine competitors just stood in their places
And we were told:
"The race isn't to see which one is fastest. It's to see which one is most long-lived."
A crowd stood around
Waiting to see which one would drop first
But we got tired
And went to a football game
Between the El Paso Patrones
And the Gun Barrel City Daggers
Somehow the ball got lost somewhere
Disappeared into the ground
At least some went digging for it
Or floated up in the sky
Some went jumping for it
But a man who wore a size 15 volunteered his left shoe as replacement
And the game resumed
The El Paso Patrones winning by one-fourth of a point
I then bid my workmates good-bye
Surprised I hadn't been set up for some sort of humiliation
And went sauntering somewhere
Until I found size 15 footprints of a man hopping on one foot in the mud
I idly followed them until I came to
the ravine that separates
misers who hoard silver
from seekers who sift through Coke bottles
And figured that if he could jump across
Hopping on one shod foot
I could do the same
Hoping with two
mark john junor Jan 2014
the sun setting on the high mountain passes
brilliant colours in the sharp cold air
he rode slowly along the path
holding the reigns in one hand
the other resting on his colt revolver
his dark coat pulled up
covers his face
from the biting cold
some hours from now
further down the trail he will rest a bit
before pushing on
make the rio grande before the week is out
make the border and freedom before
the hangman can claim him
he shifts his weight on the saddle and
his horse flicks a worried ear
his appaloosa was his friend
too many miles shared and they had come to understand
and know eachother too well
from the desert towns dry and bitter
to the rain swept mountaintops of colorado
from saloons and dancing girls
to the long hard chase of the lawman following
had seen more miles than care to think
such a sweet tale
such adventure as he had dreamed of
when he was a boy
robbing trains and gunfights with bad man
but mostly he thinks of his country rose
and her little house near topeka
and how she said that there was always be
room for him in her bed and heart
with the hard won smile she gave him
rough round the edges but she was soft in every way
that a road weary man like him could hope for
thought of her now
all these miles away
as the sun sets on the high mountain passes
so deep with winter snows
so silent under crisp moonlight
her face there in his heart
as he drifts through the darkness
drifts through the years and miles
forever more
one hand on the reigns
the other on his colt revolver
some men were born never to rest
born never to know a home
Jamie Rose Lewis May 2017
I used to dress like John Wayne
Minus the vest
Of coarse
But then again
So did everybody
I worked and lived with
Somehow I'd acquired
I little pink Appaloosa
And into the sunsets we rode
Searching
For El Dorado

(JL)
Blue day reflections held in -
the eyes of Appaloosa sentries
Shorebirds marshaling before -
crystalline waterways at the -
prequel of day
The voice of the Atlantic called -
inland
Maritime winds seek their resolution -
with salted determination* ...
Copyright July 22 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Thomas W Case Sep 19
There are moments in
my life that are
too wild and
beautiful to be
tamed or captured by
words or sentences.
Musical notes could
do a better job at
conveying the experience.
D minor
or C sharp major.

My mind replays
the moments,
alive with pentatonic scales
and the taste of homemade
apple cider, and pomegranate
security.
I smell the burning leaves of
late October, and feel
the smooth nose of my
childhood Appaloosa, her
dappled coat, and trusting eyes.

Sometimes the world, and
all its goodness
stupifies me, and leaves
my spirit rocking gently in
a cradle, where I know it's
all going to be okay.
Check out my you tube channel where I read my poetry.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cSAlwXq6VDA
Mike Brubaker Apr 2020
Okay, more about our farm animals.
Our horses, last but not least.
We have three: two gentle creatures
And one majestic beast.

Jet leads the herd
He thinks he’s the boss
Yet, with even the slightest, strange noise
His judgement is lost.

Ona, the Appaloosa
Has such a kind heart
Totally blind, yet a gentle steed
A sweet horse and incredibly smart

Lilly is the youngster of the pack
temperamental, and at times, even cross.
Yet, she helps Ona find her way
She leads a blind horse with a simple head toss

The horses on my farm
Are something to behold
All amazing animals
With enormous hearts of gold

So, those are my farm animals
Few pure breds, mostly mutts  
The horses, the dogs, the cats
Make up the farm we call Wiggle Butts
S Liam Spradlin Dec 2019
Meeting you like this

The road smelled like
Dust and maple syrup. The
Wind blew one direction,
Then the next. Cigar ashes
Had burned random patterns
In the floor board. A few busted
Springs under the cloth seat
Made the ride uncomfortable
At times. The only excitement
So far was an Appaloosa galloping
Widely along side an overgrown fence.
Between the curves in the road I
Kept glancing down at the odometer
Just take make sure  I was still
Moving. I had been chasing the sun
All afternoon,  but now it was dropping behind
A mid west hillside . The air now smelled
Like burnt oil and wheel grease. I had noticed
That the radio station had faded and only static
Churned out the speaker.  If I was lost, it
Was because I chose to be. A low tire squealed
As I left the Last Chance diner . 2 miles up the road,
My crooked high beams flashed over a figure
Wearing a tie dye top and  a thin wrinkled
Skirt. Knotted hair hung down past her shoulders
And she held a bandana in her hand. I rumbled
Closer. She stuck out her thumb .

— The End —