Black and white photos peel off the sky.
A horse behind a chain link fence neither slumbers nor trots.
It hides its eyes in a walking rain which doesn’t pour.
It thinks of rusty TVs and empty goblets made of tinfoil on faraway planets.
Meanwhile, a guy 128 Thomas Jeffersons tall
hears a mad squaw’s song over the mountain every minute of his life
till he is able to squeeze through any gasp or sigh, imaginary or not,
like a mouse or a raindrop, his bone structure intact. Meanwhile,
an average raindrop can’t open all its mouths at once.