- Vol. 01
- Chapter 06
“A Horse with No Name”
Dewey Bunnell 1971
I know that desert.
I remember the signpost.
I tethered my horse there.
I got my bearings,
that is my trade mark
sticky-sticky life tape.
Keeping the wood together.
Keeping the faith.
Lining up the holes.
Wood worm eating
up my life – splinters
in the desert heat.
Fractured from the mother
of all suns.
My horse kept me sane
but I ran out water
and food stuff.
But I came back to
find him and he had
morphed into
the wood and only
“A Horse with No Name”
his head was visible.My horse had a name
it was called inevitable.
And I still feel the pain
And I still feel the separation.
So now I leave deserts alone.
And stick to pavements.
And ride on buses.
It is safer that way.