My Government White Papers

The beautiful gentle horse is cold.
Sleeps all day and all night.
Trembled fingers lick at his ears like breezes tipped with gold filigree.
Intermittent drops of blood in a white sink, a mirror with no reflection, a deep gash in an invisible cheek that leaks like an open gutter.
Find it in yourself.
Say it only once and move on.
Don't tense when you hear a siren whooping blast in your ears close enough to feel hot rubber tire in your nose, to smell red flames along the doors of an El Camino singing oompa loompa drinking expensive champagne stolen from two teenagers broke loose from private school to go riding.
See there. Buddy Hackett doing his laundry.
Nelson Mandela playing mini golf with the severed leg of a palomino horse, still cold.
Still cold......
................It's a still cold......
...........................A still cold.....
.......................................Still..................