Rus Bowden is involved with a project that is collecting poems about wrestling. This is something I thought I might polish and submit.
The prairie meets the mountains at a place
where the journey ends for the meek or weak.
Here, cougar cunning versus buffalo strength
versus diamondback lightning, and survival
is measured in the ability to circle and strike,
grip and twist, lunge and sprawl, stand or fall.
It’s a lonely place where a man crawls inward,
communes with a creature that will lead or carry
him to the peak. The only sounds are a chinook
gathering strength as it blows from the fringes,
sink it Sink it Sink It Sink IT SINK IT!
On your toes. Drive Drive DRIVEDRIVEDRIVE!
and a clap of thunder that slaps against the hardpan.
