fit for a king of several centuries back.
A little circus horse with real white hair.
His eyes are glossy black.
He bears a little dancer on his back.
She stands upon her toes and turns and turns.
A slanting spray of artificial roses
is stitched across her skirt and tinsel bodice.
Above her head she poses
another spray of artificial roses.
I really really truly wish I could open my own school. It would be held in a perfectly disassembling old mansion and all the desks would be these gaudy old things from thrift stores and have little lamps on them. We would wander around outside reading Elizabeth Bishop, Sylvia Plath, Sara Teasdale, Robert Frost and loads of short stories. Some rich old woman would donate millions of dollars so we could get a school jet and then we would travel to India and Italy and Iceland and interview the people and learn about their culture.
And yes, I do think about this a lot.