But for the Rider
Not the horse, they will come for
you as all is said, the bowl licked clean
overhead a mirror no longer fruitfully creating
but empty, deeper, a program, to compete
who calls me I find the field more time, they say
do not touch it, it will eat you it is an endless to be
full with wonder withdrawn when the snake bites
the dog I’m biting a colored tooth in the earth
where light is vulgar as it defends its flexure and
you open two doors on your chest where the chimera
treads but what if instead, full waiting, your legs
crossed like a desert, a tool finds a master and hammers
swinging distant singing weakly, weaker, if I
were to grow an envelope full of blood and perfect teeth