Horse Hair

a blank
enters and retrieves
a silence of space

silence from the cave of mind
the one that
only allows footsteps

of the whisperer
to enter, the one
that understands the touch

of horse hair

and as we enter we can hear
of volcanoes, their

secrets made bare
in the depictions
on cave walls

the walls of what no one can see

we hear
movies from the cave-wall
the wall

of the room you are in
a mirror
of summersaults

spilling trees from
each out-breath
from each

pulse of blood
circulating through the heart
at this very instant

there are people

sharing the lungs of your body
sharing the thoughts

of who it is that thinks they are

hearing walls talk
isn’t so sad
nor dangerous

movies of
painted horses
playing out their lives

memories of horses
enter into
our ears

we hear the secrets
of the sun and stars
the moon and wind

we hear
each other but
cannot recognize

human what’s molecular

inside this instant
bursts of non-retrievable memories

they flee for their lives
in search of their own

if they find it
they find their bodies
if they find their bodies

they are no one we could hope to recognize
bodies are the ghosts of who we are

a talking

trees appear from the horizon
from the edges
of the horizon appear

apache tears
black stone
falling rain
falling tears

from the edges
of the room
the horizons
the cave-wall
the emotion

sliding glass windows

as we recognize each other for a brief moment before

find our bodies

the sky in the mountains in the
horse’s memory in the escaped
air of a movie

playing and re
playing and re
membering its


is the shadow
of us all

in a cave wall window

of this___________

we are allowed to leave
we can exit

but if we do

we will forget how to talk
we will forget

we are each other in this instant

word for word
mouth for mouth
ear for ear

we are each other in this instant

if we leave we leave forever
if we return
we are not what we return to
what we return to is different
even if the wall is appearing the same

even if the cave
is only the cave of what it is
only if

becomes tied to hope exhausting itself to death

we forget leaving and leave anyway

each other
on both sides of our single body
each other

person who mirrors
person who

each other is
there was nothing

but horse hair,
permission of entrance

recognition of familiarity
familiar touch


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s