Thursday, June 30, 2016
Just Under a Hundred Degrees
Gold-fire afternoon light....
instead of Copenhagen,
stretch an hour on a gravel road...
at not-so-distant basalt walls.
As if there ain't nothin'
you can't dream-up for real.
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
Friday, June 24, 2016
Sunday, June 19, 2016
Straight Ahead: Envoi
One lesson of our West: Bat Masterson's heart
died in New York... atop his newspaperman's desk.
A swirly pillar of rising yellow hay fire smoke...
a neighbor two miles might see insurance bucks.
The raggedy bereft sing cowboy songs all night.
Saturday, June 18, 2016
Friday, June 17, 2016
Thursday, June 16, 2016
Wednesday, June 15, 2016
Sunday, June 12, 2016
Straight Ahead: 34
There was a play you wrote: candle-quarrel,
bloody car crash in a Nebraska town square,
a skinny naked girl... a bear claw necklace.
Shuffle along and you get barb-wire-snagged...
a mile of wind-fall cedar posts. Lightning crackle.
Heart 'n Saddle Saloon
a Play in Free Verse
Heart 'n Saddle Saloon, a non-linear play in free verse by Red Shuttleworth, was first produced by the Churchill Arts Council and the Department of Theatre at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, on September 19, 1992, at the Elks Lodge in Fallon, Nevada. It was directed by Michael Lugering with the following cast: Nicole Sottile as "Roxie," Scott Twilligear as "Oates," Toni Loppnow as "Marilena," and Josh Mussleman as "Patrick."
The cast of Heart 'n Saddle Saloon:
Scott Twilligear, Nicole Sottile,
Toni Loppnow, and Josh Mussleman.
A limited (44-copies) edition of Fragments From Heart 'n Saddle Saloon, published by Bunchgrass Press, is available by request from the author.
The touring production of Heart 'n Saddle Saloon, part of an evening of theatre entitled Bruised Love, received supporting grants from The Nevada State Council on the Arts and the Sierra Foundation.
The play was written thanks to a Nevada State Council on the Arts 1989 Playwriting Fellowship.
The 1992 poster for Red Shuttleworth's Bruised Love
for the Churchill Arts Council in Fallon, Nevada.
Saturday, June 11, 2016
Straight Ahead: 33
Morning sunshine... a mariposa lily in bloom.
Country road apologies to the recent-dead,
you fall to splintered memory: long-haired,
short-skirted girls in raspberry rodeo shirts.
Elsewhere might only be the Ephrata Safeway.
Friday, June 10, 2016
Straight Ahead: 32
The polarities of age, wind-'n-rain all night,
like a knock-down small town retreat by train.
You're half awake at the apology-of-midnight,
awake when the sun Bowie-cuts a horizon slit.
Rain all night, most of it in whispers... brooding.
Wednesday, June 8, 2016
Tuesday, June 7, 2016
Straight Ahead: 30
Crowd groan-'n-stumble, it's another election.
Here the flatness of desert meets irrigation,
a neighbor's baled alfalfa... your sagebrush.
You drive north, the peak of Pinto Ridge.
Dark east horizon... lost ghost-ponies.
Monday, June 6, 2016
Straight Ahead: 29
Yesterday, scrubbed with sand on a washboard,
repeats itself: sun-scorched brush, and grass.
You're in four Electric Horseman hot-wired boots,
a billy goat caught in your own dream chimney.
Sullen, flat southerly breeze: a dead drunk sings.
Sunday, June 5, 2016
Straight Ahead: 28
The sun forwards itself and we're punchy
at a sagebrush 100-plus degrees circular-point...
an inch of grit... barren soil over hell-rock.
My idiot dream: a low miles second-hand silver
'76 Coupe DeVille beneath center pivot spray.
Saturday, June 4, 2016
Straight Ahead: 27
The temp cracks 100 on your sage steppe.
A half-day of clearing sagebrush. You wish for
a river to swim-cool... to when Ali was Champ.
An outdoor momma cat toys with a kangaroo rat.
The sun splits open a rocky foothill, drops to earth.
Friday, June 3, 2016
Thursday, June 2, 2016
Straight Ahead: 25
The sun holds its tongue on the other side
of dust-tinged morning clouds: the knowing
has never been your canyon of gold nuggets.
Southbound highways, twice-steeped tea leaves,
bounce of pick-up: some luck is plowed-under.
Wednesday, June 1, 2016
Straight Ahead: 24
Hustle-'n-grasp of youth... deck of missing cards....
The eyetooth of tomorrow's troubles might well be
the new eighty-buck kitchen chairs if they can't
support what a hanging rope can suspend. So much
is out of reach... more than fine cupboard whiskey.