cross

The difficulties of blowing trumpet
Drastically increase for people with equine heads,
But sleep is only a mild disaster for trimmed manes.
Of course, musicians tend to forget the shoes on the roofs
Of the buildings they fail to forgive.
Do horses forget the hooves in the rivers
They cannot cross?

 

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Along with their ancestors and outdated bicycle wheels.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.

again someday

that carefree that
gleeful city you will visit
again someday
where bricks
and stones speak
incessantly about
squashed cannibals

and horses of
the cavalry defeated
millennia ago
feed on the tresses of
imprudent whispers