Wikipedia Poem, No. 186

MOTION

“The night is a sentinel. / Much of your time has been occupied by creative games / Until now, but we have all-inclusive plans for you. / We had thought, for instance, of sending you to the middle of the desert,” John Ashbery

 

or one in the wild
as an old draft horse
into this foal odor

caused behavior
response of wood
finds his body wild

modern languishes
domestic coyotes live
in recycling of unknown birth

with one of wood
and one of behavior
equus ferus carrion

like an unbuilt russian roller coaster
mountained and developed to term
to sense thoroughbred markings

atomic breed shortly
follows the track
from anatomy to decay

coyotes komodo dragons
verticulated months endanger
dead flesh breeds bacteria

 


Source:  Riedel, Charlie. Kentucky Derby. 5 May 2016. 
      Photograph. Associated Press. 5 May 2016.

“into the high chaparral”

“Syntax is never what you thought it was; just when you think you’ve got it down, it bolts out of the corral into the high chaparral. The job of poetry is not to get syntax back in the corral but to follow its wild journey into the unclaimed.”

Charles Bernstein from Recalculating

One Long Fucking Question for Michael Robbins

What I’ve learned about long walks of course
Was taught by the whiskers of a reservation man
Lashing a horse
Sterile tracts of pale kentucky blue grey shale

Don’t take them
Or take them seldom by mail
Stretching out like a dying dog
between
The pickets and Queen Anne

For a loss
They can’t
Be beat

The beat
Across the lawn
The lawn along the limb
Where does nightfall end
And daybreak crown its gin?