High Horse

The Dandelions at Goloring Ditch 



They’re quick-witted, iff haptic 
aptitude is the term for that 
mantic faculty where ru- 

minants leave the taproot intact 
during the dog days. It is 
when the summers snow. And what fair 

dehiscence, the suer to which 
the facile is apropos. Made 
more fissile than shoulders of 

the Muliphein is to any 
surface where the hollow re- 
joins the main thrust. The fourfaced wind 

races over the lesser 
cursus—the Gaussian curve at 
−1. Early lung 

ching, yellow-green 
where once there was 
none. The thing I feared would 

happen happened. We take this head- 
on. Quickleather, woodknock, birch- 
tusk; willowswept over the jewel. 

All that is is dwindling. 
We know this on an intuit- 
ive level. We value con- 

sistent rhythm for the fugue it 
can introduce. The mane some 
how moults, somewhen is made to be 

diffusive—I meant diffuse—
and the spirits thereby released 
from the weight of being beasts. 

S.G. Mallett is online at dowsing.neocities.org