• Vol. 01
  • Chapter 06
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Target Practice

Like a steer's blown horn
on the deserted horizon
I see the end of your sport:

Serious, now, no bluff
the trophy lies behind.

How a blown can-
shot after shot fired
at a target-

Gaping holes in the fabric-
of a tin.

It's tied to the horn
perched bucket-blue
seducing the sun.

A wilderness's testament.