The Horse Cutter's Dream

like a meanness racing around an incongruity's slow burn the horse cutter's day ends
nothing but the slow dance of the swizzle stick makes for evening's fast times
where the drawn shade rattles whisper's whistle sweeps across a dream
one of these days i'll go home
down to where white haired men sit around warming their meanings on no meaning at all
where what is said is easy as crossing the eye of a storm
and so the horse cutter passes each day keeping to himself
keeping the teeth of his saw sharp
hambone hambone where you been
round the world and back again

poem by Paul Bamberger
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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