Page 25
By Jack Joseph Smith
Curled along this river there is nothing surer
against the end of this Earth, subsequently round
A jump in the wild is Just endless, yet like a child, Appaloosa;
These diamonds for foreheads breeding slip to the sandstone
Off the prairie, warriors for folds,
smuggling up to the trout sinks of rock;
taking the lime into their nostrols,
heaving as absolutely correct
Saundering; then hoofs scratching gold dust off impossible slopes
Verticle withers snarling back the trouble pine they have lent
Off your ass you spot a causeway and begin to see shape
A stance to tripping now is knowing where everything went