Confessions obtained at the end of a rope
tabbca chaws
that drips from the chin of
each kid
driving the cows insane crazy mad
lightning
that dances from the horns on their heads
leading my horse to white washed water
that I could'nt drink
leaving
the last town before I got a poke
eating baked beans
tangled no labels these here
new fangled tin cans
talking at night around the camp fire
speaking of wages
and the towns in between
where we can spend it
unmentionable the whores that have milked us
dusty the trail up at dawn
back in the saddle singing a song
repeating each day
before it is gone
the next has arrived and it's long.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem