A horse rests...licks a desert rose, exposing
denture-like teeth.
Slowing its voluptuous space to the courting
of flies.
Its Grecian-black olive eyes, poke their pits
in a pinpointing gleam.
A chancing apocalypse mid-stride...allots dust
the fire it so craves under the sun.
As it settles...the horse is dismounted, and
let loose--a disorienting beauty ensues.
As if nature could part wild ways...onward...
onward...where went the beast...where went
the man?