I’ve no regard for the road.
But even so,
I keep a fear of leaving in tow.
Steeped in tears from the grieving gray.
Seedlings snapping as we careen away.
With a trailer full of horrid horses,
Whose eyes endorse our bored remorsing.
Their forceful snorts and failures pouring
Out of mouths that doubt, bite, fright, and drool.
Till they drink our soured spite as fuel.
Still,
some call my kind of cut-off cruel.
Trail Blazed
Dim Opus 