a poem is an egg with a horse in it.
no ordinary bones. just a beak
and a mane event.
ghost feet
and honeybees
that gallop best
where our terrapins Jupiter
the most.

where we have
our pins for
stars
to fathom
with.

a poem is a dust up
where a downward dog
has chased a car
into a vat
of cats

and that’s who
we are.

and that’s
That.