poetry critical

online poetry workshop


I know its snowing somewhere,
but who could beat a horse so hard
against this arid desert.
We should probably quit right now,
drink our sweat
and boil our leggings to eat,
but the desert night prophesies
let slip an oasis on the horizon.
I am just a simple cattle herder,
and prefer a swatch exactly on the brand,
where it hurts more. But I
have also seen the sargraso heal,
the surprising coolness of the
desert's night air fortify a mortal shot,
and people forget their names.

5 Jan 18

(define the words in this poem)

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