Which Riding Arena

Sometimes the apt metaphor rides slow trains
but today she arrived: I’m the rodeo clown
distracting hyped-up creatures with long horns,
enough to laugh. In kafkaesque humor I’m shown
what happens around dissertation defenses.
My role in the academy’s carnival is to feint
pent-up fury, cynical desperation, life unspent–

of others, I think; but I’d rather ride dressage
alone on Leg’cy. She spooks at nothing
I can see; so I wonder at what’s real, real enough
to die for, and I don’t believe it’s rodeo clowning.

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One comment on “Which Riding Arena

  1. Cristina says:

    I wish more would dwell on the shores of your metaphors…for they would find meaning. And most of the time…find themselves.
    On the lines of your poem…poetry is not real enough to die for, yet seductive enough to live for. Because it dives into an archaic yet subtle self.
    Thank you.

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