People whispered that I was noble, crazy, brave
(or all of those things in combination)
And perhaps I was
I don't remember exactly why anymore
I clothed the horse but not myself
(Embroidered linen draped
over his shoulders and quarters)
But here is what I do know:
I was stung awake by the somehow prickle of horsehair
on my legs and the first sun on the whole of my back
I felt the shudder of my flesh as the horse tramped onward
I had not known what nakedness could offer me
until my lonely pageant laid bare the city
Absent its vendors and politicians
it was ghosty and holy and I was
holy too
I sweated into the nimbus of my uncovered hair
and breathed to the capacity of my lungs
and began to glow
(People say poor Tom was struck blind
or hypnotized that day. Either way,
now he peddles wreaths
he made for the Queen of Heaven)
And I have not stopped since that time
Sweating, fluorescing
and taking numinous breaths
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