Baxter Black, cowboy poet and 'Morning Edition' commentator, dies at 77

[Vibroluxer]

I used to listen to him on NPR. This is one of his poems...

My Kinda Truck

I like a pickup that looks like a truck
And not like a tropical fish.
Or a two-ton poodle with running lights
Or a mutant frog on a leash.
Give me one tough as a cast iron skillet With a bumper that's extra large
And a hood that weighs over eighty-five pounds
And looks like the prow on a barge.
I like style but since when should a truck Be touted for comfort and ride?
Power windows?
Reminds me of jeans
With a zipper that zips up the side.
They should soak up the dents of everyday life
Like a boxer losing his teeth.
And I like a truck, when you lift up the hood
You can see the ground underneath!
Don't get me wrong,
I know beauty's skin deep
And ugly is in the eye,
But to find out if your truck is my kinda truck
Here's a test that you can apply:
If you have a small wreck in the parking lot
By backin' a little too far,
Your only worry is how big a mess
You made of the other guy's car!

 

[Dan German]

I remember him. RIP Baxter Black. You certainly entertained me.

 

[Synchro]

That‘s a shame. I recall seeing him in local restaurants, from time to time. He was unpretentious, but he had a real presence. I always enjoyed his writing.

 

[sdcb27]

The world just got a bit dimmer.

 

[Vibroluxer]

Ya, I can count on one hand how many times I've heard him but I read one of his books and enjoyed it. Live on, Baxter. You made the world a bit brighter.

 

[tcadam]

Wasn't he a large animal veterinarian or am I making that up?

 

[MickM]

Damn, there goes another good one. I bought one of his books years ago but can't recall the title. I have to find and re-read it.
RIP.

 

[MickM]

Wasn't he a large animal veterinarian or am I making that up?

Yes he was. I think before he started speaking/writing full time. I saw an interview with him but I can't recall how long ago.

 

[Harry Styron]

After he was already famous, Baxter married the fiddle-playing daughter of a late guitar-playing librarian-folklorist friend, who put together this interesting book:

 

[Mjark]

Oh man. I haven’t heard him in sometime. I always thought he was older than that. He was too close to me in age. RIP.