A journal of TMI

A year as an animal

to be as a horse

is an act of great vigor

breathe deep and with force

the lungs must deliver


a snort is in order

a stomp is commanded

with wings or without

rear up and break wind


the horse of today

has internal combustion

the gas that it spews

as lethal as methane


a very old story

tells of a race

twelve animals vied

to each find their place


why race at all?

there’s some obligation

to venture with gusto

without hesitation


I was riding a snake

then I switched in midstream

to a horse and we swam on

unfazed, quite hypnotic


the snake won the race

unscrupulous, intelligent

secure and at ease

in its water element


the horse was startled

swift and hot-blooded

its composure in contrast

to the ancient long-thinker


the snake is derided

slithering spine

smooth sexual skin

cold and elusive


horses and snakes

have an old enmity

conflicts in stature

and dietary needs


wild horses exist

and those that went feral

beasts of men’s wars

and high-value transport


I rode in a herd

the horse can be social

colts mares and stallions

geldings and foals


fillies and yearlings

lock their knees

for a while

yet still must lay down

protected by others


a rattle spooked pony

galloped away

the pasture

a buffet

sprinkled with hazards


the snake has not left us

man’s oldest friend

undulating motion

through dense vegetation


red light on a face

a draw for attention

scale shell renewed

eyes clouded- released




ticks and mites



all sloughed at once

egg cracked

forward thrust


ride on driver

maintain locomotion

the gait is adjusted

the race carries on


Again, why the race?

what’s the advantage?


why not lay


like a snake

in its cavern


let the sun heat the ground

slither out in late morning

everything sleeps

but the river

and wind


we burn leaves at dusk

orange consumed piles

hovering smoke

a cover for actions


the snake won the race

yet the horse takes its place

next year a new story

walk, run,


or pace






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