Genji, I dreamt the horse again last night.
But this time I was riding it.
It was so dark, and my eyes stung.
The wind whipped through
the invisible trees. It takes
a body to know the wind
is there, to know a horse
is under you. So it was you,
I guess, that pressed against
my flanks, and it was you
who filled my ears with noise.
When I press back,
you have a shape to fill.
Genji, where will you go
when I am in the ground,
unless a tree grows from my mouth?
Adam Penna
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