The Night Horses are stalled between sleep and dreaming. In the steading they lower their massive heads to the earth’s nod. In darkness white-faced Clydesdales lip at nothing. Below a halo of bats they rest their load of feather and bone and horn. They hear, don’t hear, the scrape of shoes, as a gelding shunts … Continue reading Poetry in Horses
Tag: Ken Taylor
‘first the trees, now this’ by Ken Taylor
first the trees, now this shapes of leaves are trying to tell me something different than strata of latin or what might make me itch. they are stanzas to walk around in. the ovals send rumors over opposite walls. darker yellows seek wax. others – the sweet tones of a ’38 epiphone acoustic guitar, … Continue reading ‘first the trees, now this’ by Ken Taylor
