…The sprawling Cowboy Sunset framed by two
black buttes like a film screen; sun-blazing dust
cindering red like metal yields to rust;
the cold stars kindling on the fading blue;
the sagebrush, scurrying scraps in the collecting
sea of a prairie night—then, as if cued,
the offstage voice:
“The End is also good.”
But was it? Hackneyed, cornball, unaffecting,
voice, sagebrush, stars, buttes, prairie, sunset sky
were out of a 50s Western. My faith rocked
by this creative failure, picture my
horror as I watched Him ride off, Stetson cocked,
black silhouette on cinematic gold,
for the slow Fade Out while the credits rolled…