But for the Rider

Not the horse, they will come for

you as all is said, the bowl licked clean

overhead a mirror no longer fruitfully creating

but empty, deeper, a program, to compete

who calls me I find the field more time, they say

do not touch it, it will eat you it is an endless to be

full with wonder withdrawn when the snake bites

the dog I’m biting a colored tooth in the earth

where light is vulgar as it defends its flexure and

you open two doors on your chest where the chimera

treads but what if instead, full waiting, your legs

crossed like a desert, a tool finds a master and hammers

swinging distant singing weakly, weaker, if I

were to grow an envelope full of blood and perfect teeth