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Well, this a poem
that I want to read,

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because I like the cleverness.

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I usually don't like cleverness.

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Cleverness is an enemy
of poetry so often.

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But I thought this was just
too darn clever to not do it.

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I'm indulging myself.

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And I should say that the last
word in the poem is spelled

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N-E-I-G-H. It's
called "Horse Prayer."

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"Why was I born to balance
the two laid on my back,

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to carry across my snout his
stocking of oat and apple?

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Why, I pray to
you, father of what

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runs in the name of the
fenceless field, when

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he declares himself
my master, does he not

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understand my neigh?"

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Isn't that funny?

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I just thought, I
can't give that up.

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I'm sorry.

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And he prays to the lord
of the fenceless field.

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Because if we supposedly see
our Lord in our own image,

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so does he.

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