TRAVEL POEM
Wyoming Cycle
This is an extraordinary poem — I don’t want to tell you about it, you just have to read it.
Wyoming… heroic, American and awful.
Ricky is our Poet Laureate, originally declared as a bit of whimsy between friends, but now enshrined and he has taken it seriously. This is a special piece of work.
My heart ached reading it.
Bob Guccione, Jr.
Wyoming Cycle
1 Wyoming
Wyoming,
there is no ring I can wear
for once I have seen your great beauty,
you see,
it is you
I am married to.
Wyoming,
no Lark can sing me to sleep
for once I have heard your heart humming,
drumming,
only you
can I listen to.
From your bitter depths of canyons
to your jutting snowcapped peaks…
to your howling wind
which speaks to me now
of Heaven.
Where the skies
so never ending
watch the restless earth explode!
and unload it’s cries
in geysers, and steam…
Oh I dream of you
Wyoming,
When I am roaming
through other places,
I miss your open spaces.
Wyoming,
tho’ other kingdoms may call,
I’ll long for your sun painted hallways,
always.
It is you
I am driven to.
Wyoming,
you are my wing, and my prayer.
There’s no sting I can’t bear,
that your night air won’t soothe,
or your smooth stone won’t heal.
I feel at peace with you,
Wyoming.
Wyoming,
I pray they bring me to you
when time sends her shrouds to enfold me.
Hold me.
In your arms
I’ll be ever true.
I learn from you,
Wyoming,
why Homing Pigeons return
to you.
2 Home of the Brave
(For Matthew Shepard)
There was a fence.
Was it a corral?
Were there horses there
In the chaparral,
Deep in the heart
Of that strange land,
Wyoming?
Home of the Brave…
I want to Shepard you home
Matthew,
Matthew Shepard.
Two boys enticed you
Into desire,
Coaxed some girls they liked
To poke you with fire.
Deep in the heart
Of that strange land,
Wyoming.
Home of the Brave…
I want to Shepard you home
Matthew,
Matthew Shepard.
Over your shoulder
Your smile seems to say,
“It’s ok now.
It happened the way
That it had to be.
If someone must die
For hate to subside,
Let it be me.
We were meant to be free…”
Meant to be free?
All that you dreamed,
To get your degree
Where your daddy went,
Out in Laramie.
Deep in the heart
Of that strange land,
Wyoming.
Home of the Brave…
I want to write you a poem
Matthew,
Matthew Shepard.
Lively and quick!
Was German your tongue,
Or was Arabic?
Bred like a rose,
Angel,
Heaven knows.
(Though it doesn’t matter now.)
There was a fence.
The boys who enticed you,
Then dragged you there,
And hung you like Christ
In the frigid air
For eighteen hours.
A boy on his bike
At first didn’t know.
He thought…
He thought you were a scarecrow.
Oh, it hurts
Just to say so.
Ride a horse through
Matthew, ride!
To the other side.
Where they can’t ever hurt you,
Where love can abide.
Home of the Brave…
Sheep graze, while Buffalo roam,
Stars dapple blood splattered chrome,
One lamb torn light years from home,
Matthew,
Matthew Shepard.
Why,
Under so much sky?
