Could it be that I'm the stallion
In the dream you shared with me?
I imagine your legs wrapped tight around me,
Your hand buried in my mane,
...
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This poem is excellent filled with sincere and unhinged passion, delivered effortlessly. Thank you I really enjoy your work.
This a very different poem from the journey to the cottage in the hinterlands. That had a clear beginning which stretched until you're settled in with the family and have a chance to reflect on their lifestyle. This poem has no beginning or ending; it's an expanded middle section, all energy, surprise, sharp angles, speed. I like both kinds of poetry, that is, the journey motif with its careful sequencing of event that unfold in time; and the dream motif, with its vortex of events, desires, hopes, confusions that unfold outside clock-time in a privileged inner world, where even the most bizarre events make perfect sense to the dreamer.