Winged Horse, The

Here is my horse Abstraction,

silver white, color of the page,

of the unwritten.

Come Abstraction,

by Will on the outside of Demonic Ambition:

carry me lightly into the regions of the immortal.

I am weary of my other mountain

by Instinct out of Reality,

color of dust, of disappointment,

notwithstanding

the saddle that went with him

and the tin spurs, the bit

of indestructible metal.

I am weary of the world's gifts, the world's

stipulated limits.

And I am weary of being oppos

and weary of being constantly contradicted by means of the material, as by

a massive wall where all I say can be

checked up upon

Then come, Abstraction,

take me where you have taken for a like reason many others,

far from here, to the void, the star pasture.

Bear me quickly,

Dream on the outside of Blind Hope.

Copyright World numbers Incorporated Jul/Aug 1998

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