Is there a world beyond me tonight?
Action seems a catastrophic thing
As if these forms in motion
Were being pulled apart by horses,
A horse of the past being born,
A shade-horse of the dying future.
The event is dismembered—comes
Charging on the cusp of something
To only whinny broken into dark.
All our little life seems a flail
As some passenger is being thrown.
Yet as I sleep I see a pale mare
Tumbling out of trees into meadowgrass
And the dew shining in the dark
Some confluence of lesser galaxies
And the mare twisting dextrously
In the starlight—then I know motion,
Know the heavens are somehow bridled—
Somewhere a light is coming on.
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