blackbird online journal spring 2002 vol.1 no. 1



Outside the Horse

In saying tomato field one
inherits a green ironwork of stems,
shifting splotches of sun
where light bounds from skin—

with skylight, a cloud
slides back above the landscape—

far removed from saying, say,
landmine: crescent steel, a bed
of red, spent leaves, feather-
width pin upright as a statue—

saying statue one troubles
over a park, pin: medal,

but saying horse a meadow
comes forth, bees quickening
and the thought of nostrils
oscillating eager circles,
hooves still among leaf-spines—

saying horse again, one intuits
a rider, architect of motion,
saying motion the brain is seen,
pulsing along its limits. 

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