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F. DANIEL RZICZNEK
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. ![](../../images/bug_print.gif)
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