the horse, your horse, my horse is here. in pale black sheen

like the tampering of virginity.

with teeth like whitened steel

and a mane of shredded night. the horse is here

and always here. he races galloping over dirtied meadows

towards the lake, and jumps in unnerved and unafraid.

he walks dreamily along the bottom, breathing needless as he

collects like carefull prizes, animals to bring as corpses

to the shrine for his beloved.

the horse- your horse, my horse? it sees me

with it’s deep and huge black eye.

vision requires no soul nor demands the sight of beauty

oct 22 /03