horses raze she told me once that i was the only person in the whole world she was completely honest with. she doesn't tell me anything anymore. what sticks with me is the thing she said about horses. she told me they have a better built-in bullshit detector than almost any person you'll ever meet. if she was riding and upset about something, and she tried to hide it, her horses would tense up and fight her. they knew when she wasn't owning what she felt. it was only after she let herself be angry or sad or decimated that they would relax. what a gift it must be to have friends wise enough to know not just when you aren't being honest with them, but when you're lying to yourself. 220603 ... Oyster_Moon I’ll feed you. You are a summer affliction of corroded gout behind my mother’s picket fence. Sour sorrel. Your mouth is a felt foal, rummaging and flailing and ambling, bent-legged and branchy, over the eight acres of my throbbing flatland. Do you know how to father a backbend in the undergrowth? How to shoo burgundy from its hollow like an injured butcher? You whittle taboos out of oak like an expert while our horses stagger into the brush and into the bush and into the sacred sea. 260303 what's it to you? who go blather from