Saturday, July 07, 2007

Three Hundred and Sixty Five, 2007, Singleton Outsider Art, Bachman words


THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY FIVE
Outsider Hippie Woman Art
Artwork (c) Singleton 2007
Poetry (c) Bachman 2007
every string of hats from dead cowboys
each face painted with a new life;
Some found that old Boot Hill
was all of the
three hundred and sixty five
one night stands...
Every dead cowboy met his match
on that one night
he stood up to you;
my stranger




how many hats do you own? do you wear?
how many six shooters?
three hundred sixty five
this year to the day

you shoot straight,
somewhere between the eyes
or in the the knees
sparing the heart
or or at least sparing the hat--
but always the hat,
so you can paint
it shades of your lifeblood mosaic
and all the many broken but useable
blues
that you learned to sing
when we were all too young
to know where dead cowboys
hang their hats
when its time to say goodnight
with a hope that they've found a home
for one last night



7 comments:

eric1313 said...

This is a most wonderous gift, my sweet friends.

To see that gorgeous work of art created perfectly to my words is like having my birthday 365 days a year! What a sweet creation and what wonderful girls you all are. How could this be any better? Another party. We'll have another grand ball on the patio porch. What an awesome way for us to work our mystic arts.

Peace and love and beer,
what a circle
we create

singleton said...

eric...may the circle be unbroken....99 beers on the wall, and we made a chain.....

skinnylittleblonde said...

Absolutely a natural beauty... all of you...the people, the words, the artwork!

singleton said...

And you, baby girl, you!

Justgivemepeace said...

eric....
everytime I read this poem I like it more and more! Clink!

eric1313 said...

this lady is beautiful, too. Just waiting for somebody to pick her up and look longingly into those lazy shaded eyes of hers. It's tough to love any one of them above the others.

singleton said...

eric....oh, she'll find her way....to where she belongs
"when its time to say goodnight
with a hope that she's found a home
for one last night"
Peace, my friend
and cowboy time!