Start Here, Go There
Sixty-nine horse trailers containing 84 horses, two goats, a laughing hyena and a fluctuating number of field mice. Dung paddies, straw, a pungent aroma.
My mind’s turned into an unsaddled stallion galloping thru a low-income landscape. An enterprise without price tag, compounded and escalating. They should have bought me out while they still had the chance.
I’m happy alarmed and confused. I hope you don’t mind my sharing.
I float thru life like an echo.
You cannot love what makes you uneasy.
I no longer want love and I never did need it. Neither did you, little kittens and lean-ribbed hounds. Love’s something beyond our ill-tempered reach.
Love poets are the Thunder God’s snack food. He shovels them in by the handful. This is why we cling tight to each other when the lights go out. It’s not love. At best it’s good sex.
Enough trade secrets for one night. Enough false leads and high-strung indifference.
I know what you’re thinking, but the chance I’ll climb down off my soap box is remote. The thing’s about to lift off like a rocket.