I don’t expect to see
in the same way now
and I’m not the wise
old man I wanted to be—
after all, this new ground
hasn’t changed much,
the rain still drains
down the same canyons
in my brain, a ruffled
landscape come alive
in my skull that I must
work around, it seems.
Under the heading: “Ask Mr. Cowboy Poet”
Another old skull wonders: is it a ruffled cape over the lands, or ruffled lands under a cape? (Okay, they’re taking me back to my “quiet place” now.)
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I think that’s a fair question. I liked the sound of ‘ruffled’ while hurrying to help the neighbors brand this a.m., but also I don’t see things as clearly as I used to, hence ‘ruffled’.
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Here’s a laugh for you: Read “ruffled” to mean convolutions of the brain……….I thought you were writing something very dark indeed. I am so glad to be wrong!
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It may be just sloppy writing.
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