David Cameron Writes

 In 1882, Oscar Wilde visited the mining town of Leadville, CO. In the town's Silver Dollar saloon, he noted a sign over the piano. He later wrote, "I saw [over the piano] the only rational method of art criticism, I have come across." I wrote the following poem about the Silver Dollar Saloon and the sign, and it was recently published in the August, 2024 Issue of Saddlebag Dispatches.   The Silver Dollar   I swing the doors expecting a waft of stale beer and rancid sweat; shabby, not shiny like a new brass spittoon.   But the Silver Dollar Saloon fairly gleams. It’s the place to be seen for all the wrong reasons, iniquity’s playground, an outlaw’s oasis.   Yet, empty it echoes—a hollow shell and vacant vessel of dreams deferred where trouble dogs each patron’s steps,   my steps as well. Alone, I sit at piano plunking out notes, a scrap of a song I cobbled together those nights I barely slept;   a shadow of why I came

The Dreaded Goathead         I loved living in Abuquerque, NM for seven years. The high desert of the southwest had a stark beauty very different from the lush greenery and banks of forsythia and hedges of azaleas of my native North Carolina. There were devilish goatheads in New Mexico, but at least we didn't have kudzu. These are two poems I've written about New Mexico. "Back in New Mexico" was published by the February, 2024 (Eighth) Issue of Abandoned Mine.  https://www.abandonedmine.org/eighth-issue-february-2024 Back in New Mexico David Cameron I step on a goathead tricorn devil lacerating my heel injecting desert sizzle and chile fire until I hop hop hop hop and fall on a cholla that hugs me with outstretched arms lighting me up like tequila shots burning my eyes with salty tears heaving piñon sighs still high from the way the mountains pink like melon and now I think I’m back. Back in New Mexico.   Shades of Brown High desert seems sepia, a monochrome mono