september opens like a door through which the long shadow of a horse can be seen, hooves pinned to those of the living horse. there is a wildness that cannot be undone. it is late but there is still time to loose my hair and unpin the shadow from my feet; there is a wildness that cannot be undone. it will run the golden light of this month into violet.
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i took all the words and cut out everything that wasn’t a horse.