Jon Horton
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Jon R Horton
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Ganesha

This monstrous muscular belly
This broad brow and falling face...

What is that
Which seeks the sweetmeat in my hand?

Mother! There was a man...
He came to the door of your bath

I remember

He cut off my head!

Father?

The religion of the Hindi
And the long languages
Stretched from the Hindu Kush to Wyoming
Are at the margins of my mind
Born there in a dream

Monkey man
Eightarm woman
Elephanthead boy
Boars which dive the ocean bottom
Seeking to save the world

These are the realities
Of children lying in the windy dark
Students of frosted night windows
Pickers of ticks from sheepdog chins

Afraid to look up
See to the hallucinate edge of reality
See the elephant boy stride from the east
Move down the great summer sky
Among the elegant clouds

Turning day to night

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Jon Horton

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