not allowed
to even be,
i ride through forests, child
of trees, my first steps
halting,
treading on dead
leaf and seed.
have you,
do you see me riding,
even hear my horse’s echos,
strong dark root
of kock and seed. you laugh
and slice me,
pale knife.
have you heard
it? peasant
tale of naked youth,
a tree, the smell of horse,
the sense of oddity? peasants
hide behind dead trees.
i ride
to the land of mirror —
i need to reach you,
stretch out
langor, shall i touch
you? green leaf vigor —
beauty of this city.
naked youths
ride
hand on hand, glass
gaze,
i wonder
if you know
my name?
they sing
of fire stretched out
of water
memory of trees.
12.07.03
poetryandpoet 