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three thumbs on two hands
There are nine horses in the meadow,
wildflowers and grass,
fate counts them one by one.
Empires of bees and frog dynasties disappear
as do cities of the dead. Destiny
rides them into wind and ashes.
Everything is ashes in this world and
the molten rock is filled with ceremony.
In the flat land (where flat people,
soak in skin),
three ride four horses.
Two fingers are pressed to my forehead
in fervent benediction.
Clouds pass by like bareback riddles.
Five horses named unforgiven. Their manes
flying, their hooves on fire.
Editing stage:
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Comments
scribbler
Sun, 2012-04-01 16:11
hello
I loved the imagery and power, now if I can just figure out what you're talking about lmao............stan
Kailashana2
Sun, 2012-04-01 16:15
Me too, Stan. Sometimes
Me too, Stan. Sometimes these poems just come like that. Even I shake my head, wtf? However, this may or may not have something to do with Armageddon, but who knows? lol
~Ac