It was like…
like a wild animal
ribs like fishbones
like thin red leeches
they drank like dogs
It was like a sermon
true as a spirit level
like a string in a maze
He was bald as a stone
like rival bands of apes
silently as a bird alighting
mute as a tailor’s dummy
men or creatures like them
they buried their stool like cats
like effigies for to frighten birds
Yonder sun is like the eye of God
They rode either side like escorts
dark falls here like a thunderclap
The men looked like mud effigies.
like an army asleep on the march
their chins in the sand like lizards
like some naked species of lemur
something like a pound of powder
like a man beset with bees or madness
black waters all alight like cities adrift
like beings for whom the sun hungered
great steady sucking sounds like a cow
fingers spiderlike among the bolls of cotton
the fires on the plain faded like an evil dream
abdomens like the tracks of gigantic millipedes
leather wings like dark satanic hummingbirds
us behind him like the disciples of a new faith
he come along and raised me up like Lazarus.
jerking and lurching like a deputation of spastics
holding the coins cupped in her hands like a bird
the mules clambering along the ledges like goats
they labored on sideways over the sand like crabs
shambling past the fires like a balden groundsloth
whores call to him from the dark like souls in want
Men whose speech sounds like the grunting of apes
A hardlooking woman with a wiry body like a man’s.
They were shambling along the road like dumb things
our mother the earth as he said was round like an egg
The watchers looked like forms excavated from a bog.
is voice passed from him like a gift that was also needed
the old man sitting in the shrubbery solitary as a gnome
the parasol dipping in the wind like a great black flower
in his sleep he struggled and muttered like a dreaming dog
dragging themselves across the lot like seals or other things
an old anchorite nested away in the sod like a groundsloth
blackened and shriveled in the mud like an enormous spider
the kid behind him on the mule like something he’d captured
he had codified his threats to the one word kill like a crazed chant
the squatting houses were made of hides ranged like curious dorys
little cloven hoof-prints in the stone clever as a little doe in her going
a watered figure like the markings of some alien and antique serpent
The shadows of the smallest stones lay like pencil lines across the sand
the top of the sun rose out of nothing like the head of a great red phallus
the tent began to sway and buckle and like a huge and wounded medusa
he comes down at night like some fairybook beast to fight with the sailors
the blackened rings of the burnedout fires lay in the road like bomb-craters
Buzzards shuffled off through the chaff and plaster like enormous yardfowl
he naked bodies with their wounds like the victims of surgical experimentation
a deeper run of color like blood seeping up in sudden reaches flaring planewise
Then he waded out into the river like some wholly wretched baptismal candidate.
the barman labored over the floor toward him like a man on his way to some chore
He looked like a great clay voodoo doll made animate and the kid looked like another.
the burnt tree stood vertically in the still dawn like a slender stylus marking the hour
he looks like a raggedyman wandered from some garden where he’d used to frighten birds
the bloody stump of the shaft jutted from his thigh like a peg for hanging implements upon
The wagons drew so dry they slouched from side to side like dogs and the sand was grinding them
They crossed a vast dry lake with rows of dead volcanoes ranged beyond it like the works of enormous insects.
seized up the drowning idiot, snatching it aloft by the heels like a great midwife and slapping it on the back to let the water out.
The ribbed frames of dead cattle under their patches of dried hide lay like the ruins of primitive boats upturned upon that shoreless void
Three men sat on the box not unlike the dead themselves or spirit folk so white they were with lime and nearly phosphorescent in the dusk.
their mounts advanced elongate before them like strands of the night from which they’d ridden, like tentacles to bind them to the darkness yet to come
The rifle carried a vernier sight on the tang and he would eye the distance and gauge the wind and set the sight like a man using a micrometer.
those selfsame forms rearing with a terrible redundancy behind them like some third aspect of their presence hammered out black and wild upon the naked grounds
The sun was just down and to the west lay reefs of bloodred clouds up out of which rose little desert nighthawks like fugitives from some great fire at the earth’s end.
They rode like men invested with a purpose whose origins were antecedent to them, like blood legatees of an order both imperative and remote.
The judge was standing on the rise in silhouette against the evening sun like some great balden archimandrite.
slept with their alien hearts beating in the sand like pilgrims exhausted upon the face of the planet Anareta
the polished shoes of the horses kept hasping up like a myriad of eyes winking across the desert floor
the blue cordilleras stood footed in their paler image on the sand like reflections in a lake
a strange blackened mass in the trail like a burnt carcass of some ungodly beast
their hollow burnedout eyes were like those of noctambulants surprised by day
like many another young man of his class he’d gone west because of a woman
like some storied hero toward what beast of war or plague or famine
the trace of their untrue labors like sidewinder tracks in the sand
tufts of blue fire clung to the horses like incandescent elementals
the thunderclouds like tracings of lampblack fallen in a beaker
The white noon saw them through the waste like a ghost army
the spokes reeled in their hubs and clattered like loom-shafts
arms like some wild thaumaturge out of an atavistic drama
they’re supposed to just grit up on this sand like chickens
the horses were blowing and smoking like steamengines
they rode out of that vanished sea like burnt phantoms
Like a patrol condemned to ride out some ancient curse
the wretched ponies huddled and whimpered like dogs
rocks melted and set up all wrinkled like a pudding
a vaporous dust like the palest stain of their passing
Orion rose in the southwest like a great electric kite
beaded lizards with mouths black as a chowdog’s
figure sat suddenly like some terrible hatching
vaguely navigational like slender astrolabes
whorls strangely symmetric like iron filings
like shades of figures erased upon a board
This looks like the high road to hell to me
nothing like so cold as in the mountains
it rose off the desert like a great chancre
sunflowers tall as a man on horseback
He shone like the moon so pale he was
his movements like ceremonial wands
the valley floor shone like woven metal
he is as eitherhanded as a spider
cracked like old porcelain
his feet were like clubs
like painted sprites
like an alien eye
like some mad dowser
they crouched like owls
like a pan of dried blood
the plain like the ruins of old walls
The old ones are gone like phantoms
the small sandvipers like seemly gods
he sat in it like a debauched feudal baron
clothes of every color like a carnival clown
like the tufted stalks of mutant desert growths
broken off like stumps of great stone treeboles
bears like cattle grazing on some upland heath
humans on fire came shrieking forth like berserkers
the shrubs were like polar isomers of their own shapes
wings that went whoop whoop whoop like a child’s toy
he sat his horse with the glass at his chest like a crucifix
one of the savages went down like a player through a trap
The heavy ball of the rifle passed overhead like an asteroid
his eyes like one called upon to witness some appalling thing
like something foundered there on which the sea was teething
Dust-devils stood on the horizon like the smoke of distant fires
the riders among them like herdsmen clubbing down the laggards first
His grandaddy was killed by a lunatic and buried in the woods like a dog
I saw him lead them horses away over the slaglands like a doomed man
the high wild cries carrying that flat and barren pan like the cries of souls
The dead lay awash in the shallows like the victims of some disaster at sea
like the remnants of some dim legion scrabbling up out of a land accursed
dust like a company of armed and mounted millers wandering in dementia
the Americans called out the arrival of the incoming shafts like artillery officers
a half moon that sat like a child’s boat in the gap of the black paper mountains to the east
the hail leaped in the sand like small lucent eggs concocted alchemically out of the desert darkness
there circled two black hawks about the sun slowly and perfectly opposed like paper birds upon a pole
his naked skull looked like a cap for bathing pulled down to the otherwise darkened skin of his face and neck
One of the Delawares passed with a collection of heads like some strange vendor bound for market
they crossed a bed of thunderstones clustered on that heath like the ossified eggs of some primal groundbird
the sudden skyline stark and black and livid like a land of some other order out there whose true geology was not stone but fear
the painted chevrons and the hands and rising suns and birds and fish of every device like the shade of old work through sizing on a canvas
they watched like the prefiguration of their own ends the carbonized skulls of their enemies incandescing before them bright as blood among the coals
the crescent ribs like old ivory bows heaped in the aftermath of some legendary battle, great levees of them curving away over the plain into the night
The arrows came lofting up in the blue with the sun on their fletchings and then suddenly gaining speed and passing with a waney whistle like the flight of wild ducks
great clanging reaches ordered out of the absolute night like some demon kingdom summoned up or changeling land that come the day would leave them neither trace nor smoke nor ruin more than any troubling dream
They descended the mountain, going down over the rocks with their hands outheld before them and their shadows contorted on the broken terrain like creatures seeking their own forms.
Glanton cursed them on, taking up a lance and mounting the head upon it where it bobbed and leered like a carnival head
clothed in smoke like those vaporous beings in regions beyond right knowing where the eye wanders and the lip jerks and drools
the widely scattered palmilla standing solitary and silent against the lowering sky like other beings posted there
shed scattered sparks down the storm like hot scurf blown from some unreckonable forge howling in the waste
he knelt with that alien and barbarous head cradled between his thighs like some reeking outland nurse
all the horsemen’s faces gaudy and grotesque with daubings like a company of mounted clowns
a peculiar bandylegged trot like creatures driven to alien forms of locomotion
the sheets of water on the plain below them lay like tidepools of primal blood
like the back of some pale seabeast surfaced among the dark archipelagos
a vast plain of varied small blooms reaching onward like a gingham print
like some queer unruly god abducted from a race of degenerates
his hands in his armpits like a fugitive in a madman’s waistcoat
promontories that ran out like headlands massive and sombre
lay like maimed and naked monks in the bloodslaked dust
riding down upon them like a horde from a hell
yes whited with fear like the eyes of the blind
The boots had pointed toes like buskins
snapped at him like a dog and was gone
squatted on their haunches like wolves
a polar moon rose like a blind cat’s eye
huge black eyes like some changeling
rising up again like funhouse figures
round and smooth as arcane eggs
They moved like migrants
rolled in it like dogs
like a pitchman
cry like a child
like a son
like an evil visitant
like being all mongrel
they sat at the fire like ghosts
like his own conjectural destiny
pilgrims borne aloft like dervishes
rolled their eyes like circus animals
It looked like the black from old fires.
harried north over the desert like cattle
he veins in the man’s neck stood like ropes
he stood gazin about like he’d come for the view
we’d be required to bleed into it like freemasons
he jostled along in his sleep like a mounted marionette
Like things whose very portent renders them ambiguous.
so like an icon was he in his sitting that they grew cautious
The scalloped canyon walls rippled in the heat like drapery folds.
Like things so charged with meaning that their forms are dimmed.
like beings of a mode little more than tangential to the world at large
the desert round lay like a great barren plate gently quaking in the heat
squatting there like some deserter scavenging the ruins of a city he’d fled
they leaned by turns with pursed lips to the stone like devouts at a shrine
watch the thing that had destroyed them lurch onward like some drunken djinn
stained and stinking like some reeking issue of the incarnate dam of war herself
eleven men perched on the topmost rim of that scalded atoll like misflown birds
the cloudbanks stood above the mountains like the dark warp of the very firmament
wieldin the knife with a dexterity that was wondrous like he did it every day of his life
he rode with a woven wreath of desert scrub about his head like some egregious saltland bard
The great pale dome of his skull shone like an enormous phosphorescent egg in the lamplight.
the adamantine ranges rising out of nothing like the backs of seabeasts in a devonian dawn
The carrion birds sat about the topmost corners of the houses with their wings outstretched in attitudes of exhortation like dark little bishops.
the great hairy mound of the bear dead in its crinoline lay like some monster slain in the commission of unnatural acts
The other heads glared blindly out of their wrinkled eyes like fellows of some righteous initiate given up to vows of silence and of death.
in these primitive skins before the gray and driving rain they looked like wardens of some dim sect sent forth to proselytize among the very beasts of the land
the constellation of Cassiopeia burned like a witch’s signature on the black face of the firmament
the scalps were being strung about the iron fretwork of the gazebo like decorations for some barbaric celebration
they appeared in the streets, tattered, stinking, ornamented with human parts like cannibals
as if he were smiling under the water like some pale and bloated manatee surfaced in a bog
they once again began to hoot and to pummel one another like apes
hardwood forests much like those they had quit in their youth
like men returning late from a social, from a wedding or a death.
They slept among the rocks face up like dead men
The riders began to slump and reel like drunks.
a sour reek like the stink of a rancid dishclout
He’d of took you, boy. Like a bride to the altar.
hail lay nested like tectites among the leaves
clusters of tinware that hung like chimes
resting the rifle before him like a staff
circlin past him like communicants
turrets stood like basalt prophets
the sun burned like a white hole
eyes like cracked stone plates
yappin on the slope like dogs
like something newly born
like makebelieve wantons
they slept like dogs
like roseblooms
music like a fanfare
like a wild thing in a wood
like the paths of meteorites
scenes and scenes like them
like clubhouse guns for boys
the boardlike hide of a dead ox
holding out their wings like cloaks
they lay in the street like dead bandsmen
they looked like God’s profoundest peons
down the slope like chaff down a hopper
they looked like little gnomes crouched there
Small orphans were abroad like irate dwarfs
driven like cattle through the cobbled streets
his head was slightly bent like a man at grace
the people ran before them like harried game
the lee of those sour bones like sated scavengers
the desert under them hummed like a snaredrum
it fell away like the sheer cloven face of the world
back to back with their pistols at port like duellists
they ascended like refugees of some sordid disaster
the long dull hair swinging like the filaments of certain seaform
the trembling drop of the eastern horizon like baleful marionettes
the company picked their way past like supernumeraries in a dream
they did not look like men who might have whiskey they hadnt drunk
they shambled steaming through the cobbled town like fairybook beasts
hogskins filled with pulque that swung from the beams like bloated swine
one of the men from inside appeared in the doorway like a bloody apparition
a point of light out on that desert like the reflection of a single star in a lake of utter blackness
a pair of buzzards began to trot off across the sand with their wings outheld like soiled chorines
like some scurrilous king stripped of his vestiture and driven together with his fool into the wilderness to die
small coals scampered down the plain and sand crept past in the dark all night like armies of lice on the move
they shambled to the bar and back in their rags and skins like cavefolk exchanging at some nameless trade
the halfwild horses on the plain before them trotted in those bluish strobes like horses called forth quivering out of the abyss
The Apache riders had begun to extricate themselves from among the Americans like men backing out of a thornthicket.
the colorful lancers fell under the horses in that perilous mist like soldiers slaughtered in a dream wide-eyed and wooden and mute
he was much like the sorcerer’s apprentice who could indeed provoke the imp to do his will but could in no way make him cease again
their baled peltries looked less like victors than the harried afterguard of some ruined army retreating across the meridians of chaos and old night
saps of rawhide and riverrock looped about their wrists like the implements of some primitive equestrian game
The embers of the encampment’s fires lay below them in a gentle curve like the lights of a distant port.
The riders harried them about the basin until they were circling like paper horses in a windtrap
Glanton pounded on the door with his rawhidecovered club like a traveler at an inn
Glanton turned to his horse and unhooded it like a falconer at morning
villagers all dressed in white cotton like attendants in an institution
the creaking bone-carts passed in the night like darkened ships
like old medallions of some order of the hunt
a doorsill worn like soap
like horned candelabra
muzzling it like a dog
like terns or plovers
speech like cats
ears like a fox
like coons
like bits of pottery
picked at themselves like apes
their teeth bared like feral dogs
they shied away like little horses
fallen leaves lay like golden disclets
like some dim neolithic herdsman
he lay bound to his bed like a madman
People in here looked like skinned rats.
these lifeforms, like wonders much reduced
Stirrings in beds of hay like nesting mice disturbed.
he was bedraped with meat like some medieval penitent
the secular aloes blooming like phantasmagoria in a fever land
Itinerant degenerates bleeding westward like some heliotropic plague.
like a patent woven into the fabric the figures of stars and quartermoons
The pup squirmed and drew back in his fist like an animal backing down a hole
its small ears looked like paper spills twisted into either side of a hairy loaf of dough
a cannonball came around the corner trundling over the stones like a wayward bowl
like heralds of some unspeakable calamity leaving only bloody footprints on the stone
a flat package in brown butcherpaper translucent with grease like a paper of bakery goods
its head enormously swollen and grotesque like some fabled equine ideation out of an Attic tragedy
great dripping swine rose moaning before the advancing horses like oafish demons routed from a fen
Like beings provoked out of the absolute rock and set nameless and at no remove from their own loomings to wander ravenous and doomed and mute as gorgons shambling the brutal wastes of Gondwanaland in a time before nomenclature was and each was all.
It occupied that space and the attention of all who stood there like something presented for validation
their peeled skulls like polyps bluely wet or luminescent melons cooling on some mesa of the moon
the cannonballs were solid copper and came loping through the grass like runaway suns
The necklace of human ears he wore looked like a string of dried black figs.
A halfwitted killer from Missouri guffawed softly like an asthmatic.
they left behind a strange tainture like an afterimage on the eye
toothless paper skulls of infants like the ossature of small apes
crooned things to him that sounded like the words of love
outsized and childlike with his naked face, rode the judge
they stripped and descended like acolytes into the water
The print of the hatband lay on his forehead like a scar
like strings drawn together through the eye of a ring
Some of the men stood hand in hand like lovers
broken pots like some more ancient ossuary
A dark vein in his temple pulsed like a fuse.
holding them in one fist like a pair of socks
The judge like a great ponderous djinn
the indians would flare like quail
The woman sat like a stone.
a curious turtlelike clatter
like a croupier
like an evil fog
like a votive lamp
turned it like a tiny fan
like a scene viewed in a diorama
her paps like wrinkled aubergines
his family stood aligned like witnesses
his pleated brow not unlike a dolphin’s
like some immense and naked barrister
huge and pale and hairless, like an enormous infant
the low fire was roaring in the blast like a thing alive
The dark querent stood solemnly, like a man arraigned.
the naked windows dropped away like puppets in a gallery
She looked like a blindfold mannequin raised awake by a string.
The boy held the coin in both hands before him like a small ciborium
its hindquarters missing like something from a chromo of terrific war
They move haltingly in the light like mechanisms whose movements are monitored
into the howling desert like supplicants at the skirts of some wild and irate goddess
The judge sat upwind from the fire naked to the waist, himself like some great pale deity
As if he like others before him had stumbled upon a place where something inimical lived.
cheek and jowl with the brute and one arm about its neck like some crazed defector in a gesture of defiant camaraderie
The woman sat like that blind interlocutrix between Boaz and Jachin inscribed upon the one card in the juggler’s deck that they would not see come to light
The barman poured the measures from a clay jar into three dented tin cups and pushed them forward with care like counters on a board.
the slant black shapes of the mounted men stenciled across the stone with a definition austere and implacable like shapes capable of violating their covenant with the flesh that authored them
the dry weeds lashed in the wind like the earth’s long echo of lance and spear in old encounters forever unrecorded
racing in the stone arroyos like the imbreachment of some ultimate alchemic work decocted from out the secret dark of the earth’s heart
the horsemen herded the lag mules off after them and rode wildly down the rock trail like men themselves at the mercy of something terrible
a solitary lobo, perhaps gray at the muzzle, hung like a marionette from the moon with his long mouth gibbering
the blackened sheets of meat draped across the bushes or hung from poles like strange dark laundry
those fluted columns passing in the dark were like the ruins of vast temples ordered and grave and silent
The bones of cholla that glowed there in their incandescent basketry pulsed like burning holothurians in the phosphorous dark of the sea’s deeps.
Like some ignis fatuus belated upon the road behind them which all could see and of which none spoke.
they peered from behind their fans with a kind of lurid coyness like transvestites in a madhouse
the laden packmules were beginning to clamber white-eyed at the sheer wall of the bluff like enormous rats
the embers paled and deepened and paled and deepened like the bloodbeat of some living thing
Two thick ropes of dark blood and two slender rose like snakes from the stump of his neck
the columnar arches of blood slowly subsided until just the neck bubbled gently like a stew
the judge had his entire head in his grip like an immense and dangerous faith healer
the mountains in their blue islands stood footless in the void like floating temples
the wind blew the white pumice from the crests like the spume from sea swells
The squatters emerged and stood about the cantonment blinking like birds.
men whose eyes gave back the light like coals socketed hot in their skulls
their wretched firearms at rest like some tatterdemalion guard of honor
bearing the bowieknife in both hands like some instrument of ceremony
the bear had carried off their kinsman like some fabled storybook beast
he had for anvil an enormous iron meteorite shaped like a great molar
the bear swung with the indian dangling from its mouth like a doll
the red sparks rose like the souls of the small life they’d harbored
In the clear waters of the pool willow leaves turned like jade dace
dust was blowing down the void like the smoke of distant armies
the huaraches he wore looked like dried and blackened fish
the horses stood like roadside spectators waiting an event
the headless man was sitting like a murdered anchorite
He looked like some loutish knight be-riddled by a troll.
Just perched on this rock like a man waitin for a coach
Foragin on the mountain for pinon nuts like bears
them pictures is like enough the things themselves
a dry lake lay shimmering like the mare imbrium
The judge sat that animal bareback like an indian
the burdened animals plodding like goats
we were like circus riders, not a sound
Mud pueblos that lay like plague towns
they sat like beings from an older age
The smoke drifted through like fog
looking much like a rude hide boat
Sounds like a pack of hounds
much like their own image
Like he’d been expectin us.
It sounds like geese to me.
the judge was like a cat
conversin like brothers
It is like a dream.
Don’t do favorites, but chose this one because it was a shadow of being out of character of the others. Awesome, horrifying, funny, reality as it is. And on.
a half moon that sat like a child’s boat in the gap of the black paper mountains to the east
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