[Yes, I abandon too quickly like]
Yes, I abandon too quickly like
the dark shine of a clean horse.
I think about the few
homes I went to sleep in
just to wake up in, the houses
I’ve never returned to. My life
is returning to the last place I loved
like where I put my boots on.
A good chair welcomes me to sit.
Each chair is a good chair.
Yes, I fail myself mostly like
a cloud fails rain and the fire
I’ve made will last the night.
The house has always stood on this
acreage under the too-late-sky.
What I’m trying to say:
Too often the wind.
Too cold for rain. Too cloudy for sky.
The unloosed horse, nostril-
flared and panic-eyed.
I memory into being a ghost horse,
blood, then fire again.