wishes and horses

“All paradises, all utopias are designed by who is not there, by  
the people who are not allowed in.”―Toni Morrison, 1998 March 09  
 
if words bore half the merits of small deeds,  
or silent thoughts were half-articulate  
as words that suck the tongue till wisdom bleeds,  
or sleep were conscious half as wakeful fret,  
 
utopia were my fragrant reverie.  
and if my golden daze saw no dark knights,  
horizons no taut bounds fixed by vast sea,  
nor treach'rous skies constrained indulgent flights,  
 
then were my wishes trite as random rides  
across wild thoroughfares, by day and night:  
for oft would gelded thoroughbreds collide,  
as fools with follies die for sentient light!  
 
were there no mountains on earth's fruited planes,  
nor sheltered glens 'tween heaven's steep mountain climbs,  
alas! life' s sameness would defile all gains  
whereby fertility redeems the times.  
 
what, then, if every dog should have his day,  
and suddenly earth bloomed a great catharsis?  
then would the predator become the prey,  
as beggars dignify themselves on horses.  
 
© Copyright 2023 July 13  
by Clyve A. Bowen♫