Is best, wrist bone and mystery of it,
Returning now to bio-mechanical frame
After a night of dark herding.
I wish I could tell you
What mind-body means
Like an honest neighbor.
My wife’s horse is just here
Lowering his mouth to grass
Which is cold and wet
A promissory winter
In each grab.
My ribs have a story—
Green as a horse’s jaws,
You’ll not be paid
For saying so—
Ribs outlast most poems.
Planet of the Blind 