Sunday May 31, 2009

A squirrel running on the roof above my head: the rhythm of hoofbeats in the paintings of horses from when they were still thought to bound.

1 Comment


  1. Cat paws are not silent,
    They thunder up and down wooden stairs at 3 am
    A herd of elephants in the night

    They stand at the door
    Watch the small man across the street
    Suited for work
    He has Irish farmer’s face and five sons
    He lends them to me when it snows

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