Progress Report

by Leslie Anderson

Out in the western haunted

sand, the exposed heat trembles.

Even now they are taking shotguns to the mustangs,

rioting against the fences, over the

sand. The exposed heat trembles,

shocked! They break each other. Bones

rioting against the fences, over the

death. Trapped, they fall,

shocked, they break each other’s bones,

the mustang is still.

Deathtrapped, they fell.

Chiaroscuro gold and cyclone blue,

the Mustang is still

America. When we rode into the sky,

chiaroscuro gold and cyclone blue,

it all started from the backs of those horses.

America, when we rode into the sky,

we looked through the twitching-hot atmosphere at where

it all started. From the backs of those horses,

who could say it was only dirt?

We looked through the twitching-hot atmosphere at where

the earth spun, and that made us gods

who could say it was only dirt.

But it was America and a billion, billion horses.

The earth spun and that made us gods.

We were children who did not want to go home

but it was America and a billion, billion horses

and something had to be done about them.

We were children who did not want to go home,

(Dust of striving muscle and blood),

and something had to be done about them!

How? It is a gun. In the here of our history,

even now, they are taking shotguns to the mustangs

out in the western haunted

dust of striving muscle and blood.

Now it is a gun in the ear of our history.