I have a horse.
I named her catharsis.
She is a wild thing
that lives in the Montana of my being.
Together, we are crossways,
a shifting map of forever journeys.
Always, she makes me feel my way
upon her, across the travels over land.
Sometimes she stands
as still as a window view
until I see what she wants me to see.
Sometimes, she will not accept
the saddle of my disposition.
We ride together
as though the reins
are something for my hands to do.
Yet, we go where
my dreams have gone before us.
After we ride,
I feed her some de ja vu.
She is very temperamental
in a subtle low-key way.
There are times in my daydreams
that I doubt if she exists.
I have trouble placing us in real time.
I’ve never ridden her
with anyone else around us.
But we always roam
where other people are present.
Yet, they never really notice her,
at all . . .
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