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Remnants of a Cowboy

Remnants, remains,
Shards of broken clay.
Glued and screwed together.
God assembled him that way.

Foreign sinews
Threaded muscles.
Wire-tied, body and bone.
An erector set, his body.
Bent to ride a big blue roan.

Assemble all the pieces,
And put him in chute three.
There’s a bucking horse called, Outlaw
For an insane man…like me.

 © 2010, August 'Ausprey' Adler
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

One of my boys has been a wrangler at Mancos Ranch in Colorado for a couple of years now. Last year he rode his first bronc. He called prior to the ride wondering if any insurance was in place. The blue roan he rode was Indian Outlaw. Coyboyin' is in his blood. He has a way with horses, much like my dad. He lends a hand at a cattle ranch now and again.

The broken body part of my poem is more about the ligaments and screws piecing me together. Based on the motto, "Never been a horse that can't be rode...and never been a cowboy that ain't been throwed," I combined our experiences to come up with this piece. A horse or two always managed to find a way to my dad. He was very good as a Horse Whisperer. Some of the horses that came his direction were headed for slaughter houses, but he found ways to bring them back to life, and back to working lives. Dad loved horses. I hope at least a fraction of his genes rubbed off on my son.




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