Channel 303

There's an old western on television.
The Indians are fighting the cowboys.
The dogs inside will devour one another.
The victor will rally with cold compulsion
and linger until the end.
I pace outside and ponder the relevance.
I commune with jumbled artifacts
and misguided trains of thought.
I suppose this is just the way things are.
Dogs posturing for control.
Dogs wandering on back porches
lost within themselves.
Grappling with internal swirls that
always leave you where you stand.
Seems to me that those Indians on the hill

will never realize just how futile their

attempts at justice really are.


Ray Strickland

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sanctus's picture

well written

well written