hair

Horses arrange the sky into a checkered pattern;
Wine spots elude the tablecloths they dance on
Spread out on dry grass. The clouds put through a dishwasher
Slowly fold up and fall into the canyons where coyotes
And rabbits laugh at ancient rotting SUVs.

Horses play chess with mice,
Words with twisted etymologies flounder between the ears. Horses
Trample over faded photographs brought from the Old World
Along with their ancestors and outdated bicycle wheels.

Unsound grandiloquence of the horizon is still as thin as horsehair.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s