running over the water to ni p at her neck.
Deep
in
the woods, a dog bayed
after something smaller and smaller
crashing its way through the understory.
CAROL
E.
MILLER
Herd
There are horses representing earth,
horses representing sky,
horses representing the approach of death.
There are horses representing horses.
There are winged horses and sea
horses, saw horses and work horses.
This one is a clothes horse, that one
a horse of a different color.
There are Belgian horses and Arabian horses,
walking horses from Tennessee, and of course
horses in Italy-and this is true---some of these
horses are killed still in the belly of the mother
horses, for the fineness of their pelts. New horse hair
makes fine belts, and boots, and watchbands, even.
There are horses worn at the waist, the wrist,
on feet shod and hobbling.
These are horses of the flesh.
There are horses of spirit, dream horses,
horses watching at the windows of sleep,
horses wi th great laughing teeth in the dawn.
There are horses transcending, horses
that have only begun. There are horses,
the sun behind them stretching into night,
near a cluster of trees, facing east.
