All The Pretty Little Horses

when i wake up,
feed me
   petrol station coffee
     and a marlboro gold,
  henry miller,
     sarsaparilla,
       & maybe a carpenter
         (Jesus was a carpenter,
            or so i’m told)

             ⊹

while it holds,
watch this dream   unravel:

I. the face of Elvis in my cup
II. the sound of horses   wading through   rippling waters
III. the lilt of my name
  rising   and   falling   on the mouth of life
IV. the blue wilt of experience
   when one devotes
    too much
     to circumstance

                    𓃗

time tiptoes away  in her slip dress—
  she’s late for this dream:
a flickering reel of reverie,
  words spilling out
    from that pawn shop bluette,
    the leopard-print lady     lazarus                  the Tammy Wynette
    in a Super-8 movie—
      singing low,
        the one that goes:

love is an eden
   but i’d rather know
     what god knows.

𐚁