9/30
It was a dead man’s hat.
~ Don Draper
~ Don Draper
7 horses behind the house in the Spokane valley brother &
I 2 & 3 or 3 & 4 or 4 & 5 every
morning he dared he dared me to touch the electric zzzz the electric fence with an apple or a piece of hay every time
I did what he asked thrown to the ground by shock soaked in wet mud every
day he said here touch it feed the horse let’s feed the horses let’s be cowboys
my thin arms yanked back inside my body apple rising a lark’s feather into dry
summer air on the ground I thrashed bawled shhhhh
or you will you will get it shhhhh every day zapped my entire thrown &
curled on the ground a wet mud fractal brother dared he dared me every day I
touched the fence my entire being flung to earth as horses the gods of my
contained world watched from above giant heads lowered in compassion
posted by Radish King at 12:20 PM
8 Comments:
I'm glad the horses were compassionate. One of my favorite pictures is of the little you, perched high on your steed. I'm catching up a little, it must be hard to revisit pain but you tell it so urgently. I am going to Google those cardamom rolls. It's one of my favorite flavors and I always marvel that it's common in Scandinavia and India.
Xoxo
Barbara
Animals were truly the only compassionate creatures in my life. I loved discovering that photo when she died. I had never seen it. Thank you. It is hard to write on the fly extremely hard and it seems like I'm cleaning out my brain closet one corner at a time so I guess this is what I needed to do. I too love cardamom. The first time I tasted it in Indian food I bit on a cardamom pod in a curry I thought I had tasted heaven. Here is the recipe:
https://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1019242-lemon-sweet-rolls-with-cream-cheese-icing
Love.
Commented over there in that other place. As you probably know. Maybe.
You are a master. That last line.
your life story in poems, so powerful.
Mary, I found you. Thank you!!!
Elizabeth, thank you. I have never felt less masterish in my life. This is a brutal exercise the digging in the release of poetry as an intellectual excursion. The way I see it is if I can make it through today I am a third of the way done. Thank you thank you thank you. Rebecca
R, an excavation that was completely unexpected. A need to distance myself from Henry Darger then falling down an ever deepening well. Each morning I sit here and summons up (summon?) courage. Thank you for always being so strong. Love.
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