Roland Millington


Writing

Snickers and Ned

Fear flashed in colt eyes, like late lightnin’ in skies / Or the cock-eyed blaze on his face. / No matter where he ran, the big lion began / To close the distance and tighten the chase.

The Little Poco

It comes from inside, this swirling, slick-forked, slab-sided, never-slaked thirst for something that slips from certainty to obscurity in seconds as fast as a dream.

I Was A Cowboy Once

But remember me, young un. Remember and be proud. / I’m the one, who fed the many. I’m the one who chased the cow.

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