On occasion night speaks and wandering horses stop to listen. I know this. My home is where I believe it is. I know this. Sometimes I say agreeable things to strangers. I think this is citizenship. I know this. I am walking on the Appian Way but only in mind. I know this. I miss my father, dead these fourteen years. He’s buried beside my brother. I know this. When winter comes I strap on my old hockey skates and though I can’t see I go fast. I have a long scarf it trails behind I know this. I have a love song chilly as dusk. I work in the fields sometimes. I stand up in this useless dying koan body. I know this. Walk in and out of shadow. Walk where I will. The horse has come to teach me. I know this.
Planet of the Blind 