The pull of the moon

NOTE:  Like I said, the quenas have got me.  I’m drawn to the marauders, those horribles, a legion of them driving a herd of ponies, riding crazy, all bloodied and wearing the gear of those they’ve killed.  I’ll send you a postcard every now and then.

moon_bloodmeridian01.jpg picture by missalister

Photo from Under Culture

From the Oneword ‘moon’:

The moon lit the way like it was day and from the backs of horses the outlaws drove the busted posse on foot, their spurs and boot chains glinting and clinking with their dusty shuffles.  The smell of weak bones for lack of water rose up from the cooling ground and set the coyotes to calling for their packs.  When the posse began to drop all desperate for dying, the outlaws stripped them clean and rode off wearing their wool frock coats and badges.

13 responses to “The pull of the moon

    • Yup. Same old song and dance, my friend. Here, have a live one on me.
      I’ll definitely send you a postcard from every honkytonk I hit ; )

    • Oh, hey, Ms Dee! You caught me in the middle of probably my favorite-est Aerosmith tune of all time. I love this one ‘specially ’cause Mr Tyler lays down a little rap in the intro :-D

    • ‘The Place of Dead Roads’ in a paragraph. Not! Heh. Glad you stopped by to thank me for thanking you for your ‘…Western Lands’-inspired piece ; )

    • Brilliant, Ms Mood! I especially dig the bloodied fur bit! I can indeed see it, wild hair and all. You’re right about the moon scores, though… Let’s leave that out and put in the honkey-tonks, gettin’ lit on Jack, and ridin’ out committin’ all manner of atrocities and… And then ‘the sky darkens and goes out’.

    • It sure ‘nough is a good thing! It’s all part of being haunted by the quenas in that mesmerizing scene in the fourth chapter of McCarthy’s “Blood Meridian.” I don’t care if I never read another word past the “fabled horde of mounted lancers and archers…half naked or clad in costumes attic or biblical or wardrobed out of a fevered dream with the skins of animals and silk finery and pieces of uniform still tracked with the blood of prior owners, coats of slain dragoons, frogged and braided cavalry jackets, one in a stovepipe hat and one with an umbrella and one in white stockings and a bloodstained weddingveil…” The man’s the tops. And so are you for coming by to read my itty bitty ditties : )

      • Well, there you have it! I haven’t read Blood Meridian yet. But the language was wonderfully familiar. The adjectives dripping throughout that sentence are epic and brilliant. Thanks for sharing!

        • Oh, my dear, you should get it, read it the sooner the better. It’s his absolute best in my opinion. It’s what established him in my book as the top genius writer of our current day. To me, he was like Kerouac to the nth power. The man’s ungodly sentence length and lack of traditional punctuation drove me mad for…for maybe two seconds. I’ve never forgiven anyone faster for anything : )

  1. So, you did make it to the shrine. (I’m reading chronologically.) That slug smashed under CM’s left boot heel is the belated Jean-Louis. Cain’t. Hold. A. Candle.

    And BTW, that ain’t no itty bitty. You got the feral tempest in them lines a yours.

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