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Browse and Ribbons and Balloons

She rode a little pony through the hills of Santa Rosa
amidst the falling leaves and rock outcroppings.

As a young girl, as an innocent, artfully
amending both demand and whim—astride

at an edge where the light broke into pieces
of emotion, of desire and hurt—strong colors

that could not be denied.  There was also a clown
moving among the big houses and shaded knolls,

an example of bad science.  The earth spins
with such craft and the day's light breaks

in plain allegiance.  The pony was both dumb
and abstract in its burdened distraction; few clues.

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