by Roger Fritz, 10-12-93
I saddle my horse and go looking for poetry.
My legs hug his breathing sides as I urge him
through the arroyos, where
poems scatter like rabbits.
Two crows fly east,
one singing an aztec song, a song for dreamers.
Flowers bloom in the streets, marching
in single file.
Houses engage in staring contests,
a struggle scored in winks and nudges
behind our backs.
Goddesses walk the sidewalks,
pushing smaller goddesses in strollers.
The houses glow without heat.
Bicyclers look at my horse in surprise.
Poems jump over fences into back yards,
and I go in chase.
I come home empty-handed,
and sit by the fire, satisfied.
Tomorrow will be another good day for hunting.
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