Tag Archives: Spoon Rock




Old black horse, tennis shoes.
I was ten, give or take a year or two,
driving cows and calves up Greasy
well-before they built the dam.

Dad hollering at the bunch splitting,
at me, at God, at everything.
You asked me then when we were done,
if I wanted to be a cowboy?

Tear streaks dried like a second skin,
I cried, “No!” and meant it—
horseback, just below Spoon Rock.

Amid the green, we have become old men,
of all the things we could have been,
going slow, just below Spoon Rock.



WPC(2) — “Achievement”