“Psychedelic Outlaw” — Photo-Artistry by kenne
“In the Land of the Moneygrubbers,
the curtain rises on a single speaker,
out of nowhere, accompanied
by the Abso-Lute.”
On your journey down to New Mexico
you probably passed through the Raton,
moving from the Great Plains
of Hidatsa, Mandan and Shoshone in your old car,
wearing that round, wide-brim, black leather hat
you sometimes wore with aviator sunglasses
before Stevie Ray Vaughn ever wore them, or was even born,
on your way from Black Mountain to the Gran Apacheria
like a sacred white buffalo covered in a cloak of invisibility,
a buckskin Ghost Danced shirt from a Lakota or Cheyenne shaman
painted with the story of your life.
Slinger, I know your aim
was always true, your truth always aimed.
Like the Poet, your Eye and Poetic I,
you know the only good fascist is a dead fascist,
like the evil Q you slew in a Midwest dream
stretching from the 1860s to the 1960s
in a century of constant war.
— from “Gunslinger In New Mexico for Ed Dorn (1929 -1999) by Gary Brower
“Entrapment is this society’s sole activity. . .& only laughter can
blow it to rags. But there is no negative pure enough to entrap
our expectations . . .”
— Ed Dorn, GUNSLINGER, III
