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Live[[Division I]]North.Dakota.State .vs.Illinois.State..Live.Online.NCAA.College.Football.Game.North Dakota State vs Illinois State Live stream:NCAA Division I College Football Championship,


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I was three , no bigger than a west Texas tumbleweed . . . just three .

My mother hung the wash out on the line
and wiped the sweat off her brow with her hand .
Half an hour later the clothes were frozen .
Blue Norther . . . you can see them coming
a hundred miles away .
Wichita Falls , Texas . . . on the Wichita river .

Moses sat on a mountaintop gazing at the promised land but it was out of his hands now .
Leaning on his staff , the one that ate the Pharoh's two serpents . . . sssssssilently a single tear falls to the ground .

No fence could hold me . . . I was over or under in seconds .
A terror at three , a potential runaway .
The police knew me by first name  . . . just three .
The plains of North Texas , jackrabbits , coyotes , rattlesnakes and all . . . were home .

Forty years of desert wilderness ,
till the last man , woman , and child of Egyptian connection had died ,
. . . . . . was such a sacrifice made . . . . . .
Moses was the last to fall .
On a mountaintop of no consequences .

      "Run Rabbit Run"
Ruby Harrison Jan 2010
Since fifty-eight
the jaycees come
rounding up rattlers
in Sweetwater, folk from all over
for a weekend in March
when snakes leave the hibernaculum
and slide back up
into west Texas and the wind.

Mr. Herrera knew his Luis and I
rode the seven-thirty bus,
had cokes and potato chip sandwiches
with Mitchell and Thomas
after Sunday school,
shot jackrabbits that ate alfalfa
in the dairy pastures.

Dad said he reckoned,
so I took Mr. Herrera’s apron
and offer and brought my knife
that Luis sharpened to a razor
and shaved his forearm hairs with.  
Frank tried that once,
sliced himself like a tomato
when he slipped.

Snake shop’s a butchery,
down the main street
past the dairy mart
and primary school,
in the yellow open scrub.  
If buzzards had noses like dogs
they’d flock, smell that
snake blood from Mexico.

Rattlesnake skinning
is all stringy guts, soft skin,
pulled teeth and poison
squeezed out of gum sockets
like milk from an old cow’s ****.  
Fancy skins with eyeholes
and lips cost ten,
specialty of Mr. Herrera.
Headless strip plus rattle
just two dollars the foot.
Cut the belly lengthwise
and rip,
easy near the backbone
where it catches.  

Out-of-towners buy anything.
Wallets, boots, belts with snakeskin
sewed or tacked on,
lucky rattles, picture frames
for proof of their longest catch.  
God-fearing jaycees doing good
for our communities will eat
deep-fried snake meat,
like tough old chicken,
but good with black-eyed peas
and sweet tea on the side.  

The women even come
once the round-up is done,
the church women, the Jesus women
with belief
and pistachio pudding
with marshmallows,
like Mrs. Howard
who shrieked “Boyd!”
and lectured about hygiene
when she saw me in my apron
and ****** to my elbows,
menacing the street.  

The biggest round-up days
we worked late, past midnight.
Past the dairy mart hours,
so once the skins
were all peeled and stretched
and the sticky linoleum
hosed down some,
Luis and I walked back through town,
deserted, dark





except lights from Roscoe and Roby
and even big Abilene
miles away, shining
across the flat nothing,
coyotes yip yip yipping
somewhere near the lake farther north.

Luis showed me how to eat peanuts
shells and all
and let me try on his brother’s
high school letter jacket.  
Late night in Sweetwater is a nothing.  
The wind never stops blowing,
and there’s nobody else
on the ******* planet.
So lost in affection
Sharp knife of dedication
Piercing the eye
of the blind mirror

Same wild wet on page
Jackrabbits hiding hedge
So you know your name . . .
just have to scream . . .

. . . oh , well , so well

Shock by electric imitation
emotions in simulation
Stab it in the eye
the blind mirror . . .

   . . . sunrise , coming . . .
the dew is forming
the blind bleeding
. . . black mirror . . .

so well , so well

blind mirror . . .
blind mirror . . .
blind mirror on the wall
Sam Temple Aug 2014
elastic synapses bring me back
momentarily
before projecting future visions
across the landscape of my mind’s eye
youthful vigor and swaying pines
sage wafting across the high desert
at sunset –
my heart yearns to return home
to a place it has never lived
but always loved
broken feldspar littered
juniper and jackrabbits
in January –
rusted jalopy rattles down
pumas pathways
seeking the young buck
recently free from velvet
hunger tempering the shot
starving children
create a year-round season –
lost in time
wagon wheels still rest along wind beaten fences
tumbleweeds build mountains
along the west side
of run down shacks
the vestibule of the cottontail
the vestige of a forgotten age –
Stephen E Yocum Apr 2017
Waking two hours before dawn,
my young grandson and I,
The old stagecoach Inn was
dark and silent, squeak
of floorboards underfoot the
only discernible sounds.

A crowd of deer bounded away
off the green front lawn as we
sleepily made our way to the truck.

A bright yellow full moon was on
descending ebb, in a star clustered
sky, allowing just enough light,
to light our way by.


The high desert two lane road was
fully deserted, only our headlights
pierced the darkness. Within seconds
they began to appear, darting from
both sides of the narrow road, as if on
a mission, hypnotically attracted to our
headlights I assume.  At 60 miles an hour
almost impossible to miss.
But, god knows I tried. "Thump, Bump!"

"Thump, bump!" Another bunny under my
wheels, swerving not really mattering, miss
one hit two others. Jackrabbits and cottontails,
as if Kamikaze inspired, eight or ten at a time
from both sides of the road darted headlong
trying to cross. Fast as they were some did not
make it.

We stopped counting the carnage near 100 hits,
no way to tally the many we missed.  No joy in
keeping score of the newly departed. By the time
we reached the Alvord Desert, the ride transformed
into a 25 mile surrealistic trip. Who could have
known there could be so many?

Blood on my tires and my soul, I did not intend.

Out on the vast dry white, hard caked, once long
ago lake bed, now desert, we sat watching the new
day's sun rising up from behind the distant eastern
mountains. This quiet inspiring moment having
been our goal of intention.

All the while, I was distracted from the
magnificent scene before us, as I kept
seeing and hearing the repeated echoes of;
"Thump, Bump! Thump, Bump! Oh no,
not another!" In my guilt ridden brain.  
Why they do it I can not say, compelled
perhaps, like moths to a flame.
Beyond the experienced magnificents of our
surroundings and the sunrise that day, my
grandson received a lesson in empathy and
compassion that will no doubt last forever,
to revere the life of all living things.
Robert Guerrero Dec 2015
Your moans turn concrete to paper
These walls no longer sustains them
They only grow louder
Your thighs placed tightly together
As if to hide something from me
The bandit of unknown treasures
Shhh..keep quiet
Keep very still
I think your looking for this rabbit
To jump into bed with you
Honey, jackrabbits' ****
Like me and you on Sunday morning
I'll take you to church
Between these silk sheets
Make you sin ten thousand ways
So every syllable of the lords name
Wont be used in vain
You can feel it
The grip of my hands
Tracing a canvas of innocence
With outlines of chaos
Let go, taste freedom
The freedom of *******
And sweaty moans knocking
On paper walls
Shhhh they'll hear us
I can't control it
My lips ever so softly
Trying to find the best part of your body
From lips to neck
Shoulders, chest, and stomach
Hips, thighs, and retreat
Clothes no longer an issue
Im free to lick wherever I please
****** to bellybutton
Perhaps a little lower
Im sorry I'm such a tease
Maybe I'll just satisfy you now
I tug at your hair
A quick little play of it on the back of your neck
A smack on your ***
As we pretend we're animals for the night
Dogs or horses
Either way I'll teach you
How a real man
Pleases the woman he loves
Robin Carretti May 2018
Loving
yourself?
Or
somebody $ #
Wickedly concert
Spring-bodies
You met
All
smells

Lingering
everybody
It ain't so
Never loved
nobody
What do you mean?
******
Olive oil
All over
their bodies
Happy*
Sad
Glad
Tad
Bodies
Jackrabbits
Mad
Never nobodies?
Death do us part
Heartless
Ladybugs
Beachy  flirts

Your
body
So mistreated
you got hurt
But retreat
liked

((Rose-Lake George))
Overflowed
your motives
Positively
Greener pastures
Your heart the
Keepsake

******
Mind never
to take
Mountain
hike
Wasnt good
for you
It was
all
about him
Did
you
ever
think
Chances are so slim
And__-
Some
Bodies-
Against the wall
Mouth taped
Big stocks they walk
Mike found
Robin's nest egg
Did she
have
great escape
High-society
commodities
Lower your
standards

His picture
at the
newsstand
All
technicalities
How
bodies
Like still-life
There is a
Will
Statuettes
Move on

Marionettes
Being pulled
eyes know
Godly
doorway  
Prayers of
hope-chest
Going someway
Having it
finally
your way

Not  Mr.
Mcdonalds
Fast food
Our bodies stay
together
feel good

Bodies
bond
forever

Even if the
fire
didn't
light the
night air
Lights on
In anytime
She got
Those
body moves
of flair

Like a
Shadow Thief
She gives him
Her body-mind
Handkerchief

She wiped
His other
lover
tears
Did he
do his
time
Years of
feeling
neglect
Handcuffed
In a cell
Not very
outgoing
Can't you tell?
Is that a crime
He's disfigured
Monster
Her figure
Red Lobster

((Showstopper))

The body just
stop her
Congregate
Bodies mingle

((Touch to Touch))

She loves
to be single
Stays fit her body
Names are like numbers
Somebody
feels
important
Deviant artists
Full body and mind
gain
On the
somebody
list
You're not
the plain
Jane
Or your
nobody
again
Until
somebody
Really
knows
you
And takes you
for who
you are
to be loved

Or you vanished into thin air
Shadows of bodies

Rejection
No
affection
Nobody
had the right reaction
It's great to feel the connection when someone loves you. Like magic-feeling the earth to move somebody that meant everything. But life is funny when you are tricked into thinking your everything. But why does someone take that away that you feel like nobody? Now that's an answer only we can work out
Jay M Feb 2022
Silky red
Fabric flowing
Gracefully in the breeze
Flirts whispered and said
Hearts melting, hearts growing
Confidence flared, a day of ease

Earrings dangle
Necklaces gentle thump
Some words, they strangle
Whilst in others, hearts pump
Wildly like jackrabbits
Pretty little words and habits

High tapping heels
Arrows to the heart,
Right in the feels
Only a small part
Of what may be
That of which
All shall wait
And eagerly
Wait and
See

Empty arms
Wait for the hour
To hold within them
The beam of desire
To then shower
In deepest love
Amorous affection

- Jay M
February 14th, 2022
Happy Valentine's day.
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Tumbleweeds ease by,
as daylight draws dim,
the evening breeze weakening,
in the oil fields of the west.

The pump jacks speak,
as the flares burn,
igniting excess fumes,
and lighting the night as if day.

Jackrabbits wander and roam,
as rattlesnakes slither into dens,
the occasional bat swoops by,
trying to dodge the Nighthawks.

The oil trucks never stop,
the back roads ever busy,
a covey of blue quail
take it all in stride.
The Fire Burns Apr 2018
Playa lakes and puddles formed,
in the days after the storms.

Frogs eggs laid, tadpoles quickly,
on the edge, the mud is sticky.

Blue Herons stalk the wide shallows
bringing death like from the gallows.

Sandhill Cranes with their red caps,
eat fresh grass shoots with quick beak snaps.

Cottontails and jackrabbits drink,
here comes a skunk with all its stink.

A tractor comes and critters scatter,
how could they not with all that clatter.

Conveniences and machines of man,
make life hard out on the land.
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Rattlesnakes crawl under mesquites,
leaflets wiggle in the wind,
wild turkeys call in the distance,
bringing me back again and again.

The baa of sheep and the bovine bellows,
as evening falls, crickets chime in,
low fire crackles, for the sound more than heat,
hoping that the weekend won't end.

Bobwhites call in fading light,
nighthawks and whippoorwills also speak,
eighteen wheels whine in the distance,
reality into my world just leaked.

Coyotes call as jackrabbits run,
the final darkness has blanketed light,
the stars all shine, not a cloud blows by,
on the central Texas springtime night.
Keith Frantz Apr 2020
Under white pillow ceilings
I witness in childlike wonder
The Great King Elephant 
did hide in the Clouds 
with his friends 
Death and Folly
Honu and Homer's heroes
Pavarti with Peacocks
and Rockhopper Penguins

The World has stopped 
The Oceans 
then whispered 
to the Earth
The Sky overheard them
and sculpted again
with great abandon 
The Earth 
was tremendously overjoyed 
She set upon 
bolder trees and wiser deserts 
And let the animals know
Flowers with unique faces
de novo in the joy of the Rain
cleansing the lonely paths of man

I beheld a Different Sky today
sweet with promise and decorum
where Clarity holds Paramount
She repeats
to those who will listen

The Sun sang his shiny song 
and threw spotlights 
unspoiled upon
all the Creatures of Creation
Beast and bird 
synced reminiscent rhythms
Breaking through 
the now ancient 
Cities of Gold
Enormous flocks did crowd 
the modern Sky
And the Rebirth is known
As Phoenix itself 
leads the formation

Through it all
The Stars see us 
more clearly now 
The Moon somehow 
seems moments closer 
as she winks delish 
and swings her sass

They each escaped
to the freshborne 
Lilac Meadow
where they cajoled and rejoiced 
The Wind and the Rain 
teased the Clouds
The Sun begged the Moon 
for this symbolic dance
The Stars waltzed
hide-and-seek 
with the shrubs 
and the hedges
Man was invited too
He was warned 
not to play too close 
to the Fire
Again

All danced 
our blessed dance
And revelled 
As Yesterday's pyre
flared higher
and farther
Licking the toes 
of all living things

Golden foxes 
did strike fair accord
with withered sheep
and woeful jackrabbits
Truer still
The Elements
once again granted
Man humble magnificence 
I stood reverently 
encouraged and inspired
by this reset
Alas repurpose
Another opportunity yet
Of Nature's Last Chance
In our New World
Under a Different Sky

April 8th, 2020
I wrote this for my mother on her 82nd birthday in the Year of Our Pandemic.
She complained about how dark and tragic my poetry is. I wrote her this about man's time and emergence after the COVID-19 pandemic.
Atticus Jan 2020
She asked me once why no one loved her
She told me to describe what I found beautiful about her

How could I put into words the extent to which I loved her
So instead I kept my mouth shut

The expression on her face was one of disappointment, deflated even

If I could go back now and start over I would tell her that she is the ocean, uncontrolled and unpredictable

I would say that when she bit her bottom lip jackrabbits would start a frenzied dance inside my stomach

I would tell her that I loved the crows-feet by her eyes that crinkled with joy when I told corny jokes

But I can't go back so I sit in this dark room that I call my mind
thinking of all the times where I could've said I love you and I didn't
c rogan Aug 2022
The desert during a heat wave,
Quiet browns and reds,
Sandy rock for miles and miles and miles.
We sit in havens of shade beneath hanging rocks,
Socks prickled with cactus needles.
This windswept planet foreign from rainy eastern green.

Waiting until the hostile angle of the sun lowers to the crux of the mountains,
Shadows extend as jackrabbits skirt around us.  
Les fougères poussent bien à l’ombre.

We climb on top of the tallest hill,
Backs on hard uneven sandstone,
Covered in petroglyphs, we look up.
The stars begin slowly, then all at once.
Salt spilling on black paper, the arch of Orion’s arm
Whirls near Sagittarius and Perseus.
26,000 Light years from her,
Swirling in the dark.
The wind said,
This is now the place for you:
Our galaxy, a heaven.
The stars, a liturgy.
My desert, a temple.

— The End —