Rider Unhorsed

After Paul Klee: pen and ink on paper; 1920.

See me riding along famously when reeds
at the pathside became vocal and the dunes'
curve met the curvature of eye just inside

my field of sight. I saw Polaris become
five-pointed, and red pines closed the sky
as bluebells opened it. This is vision country.

As to where my horse is, my steed of good
deeds and satchel of bad lemons, or how
my head became a tuning fork in a thicket,

I'm too busy to answer. The tufted titmouse
is untufted; the yellow-bellied sapsucker
parades its red; nuthatches hang upside down.

Sit here with me; step out of your swivet.
Be mind-muddied a while, and temple-robbed.
Be lullabied by the music of far-off bells.

Copyright © 2006 Gibson Fay-LeBlanc All rights reserved
from Backwards City Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission