One more poem.
I haven't read anything yet from Angle of Geese.
One which refers back to Indian tradition.
One of which I'm particularly fond called Plainview: 2.
I saw an old Indian at Saddle Mountain.
He drank and dreamed of drinking.
And a blue black horse.
Remember my horse running, remember my horse.
Remember my horse wheeling, remember my horse.
Remember my horse blowing, remember my horse.
Remember my horse standing, remember my horse.
Remember my horse hurting, remember my horse.
Remember my horse falling, remember my horse.
Remember my horse dying, remember my horse.
A horse is one thing, an Indian another.
An old horse is old, an old Indian is sad.
I saw an old Indian at Saddle Mountain.
He drank and dreamed of drinking.
And a blue black horse.
Remember my horse running, remember my horse.
Remember my horse wheeling, remember my horse.
Remember my horse blowing, remember my horse.
Remember my horse standing, remember my horse.
Remember my horse hurting, remember my horse.
Remember my horse falling, remember my horse.
Remember my horse dying, remember my horse.
Remember my blue black horse.
Remember my horse.
Remember, remember.
Thanks for listening.
[CLAPPING]
Thank you.
[CLAPPING]
Thank you.