Many horses: propulsive river embanked
by languid anguish. Trust it, erosion—
forceful meshing of mud and medicine.
Prepare for intimacy. Verve fixed,
balancing between right and wrong.
Leave a coin, dropp a line,
add a stone to the pile of well-worn,
well-meaning, well-wishing ancestors.
Contemplate prismatic prisons, linear
loves, as graves squelch slow smoke,
belch broken multitudes, sacred coughing...
Grandfather smile. Suede boots,
blue eyes, the underbelly of a road.
'Remember who you are;
the molecules in you were once a star.'
Now roving, revolving, sobs burble,
illuminated; counting, culling cuts...
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