Thursday, May 12, 2022

Words Are Horses, Working

When someone pretends to speak for us,
Will you interrupt them to ask why?
Gold bridles may tempt you to keep still,

Rein in your more outrageous notions.
Brain is body, after all. It eats,
Swiftly, any oxygen it gets.

Run hot enough, even fast brains will
Tread like sweating horses slogging mud.
Clear streams of language create such mud.

Autumn can come to be a figure
For so many associations,
Even Li He, neighing, can’t pull free.

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