Cos Mic Lasso Poem by Martin Webb

Moving
Like a dream
flowing through water

I am a small boy
in memory,
attending a strange rodeo
that flows by
in white, chalky dust

Cowboy, kerchief, horse- -
all in slow-ghost motion
I belong to them

in strange
cousin-relative attachment,
pulling within me

I stare
camera stiff,
detached completely

Yet, I am,completely
the holder of it all

As i sit here
leaning casually
on some plank of Time
that is a part of
the Great Fence
of the immense universe