The Whiteness of the Horse

>be me, Bonky
>i'm bubbling in my bubble
>i'm insulated against the horrors of the pickle
>but...
>i've cheated
>i've created a bubblescope
>with which i can watch from a distance
>all the pickle-stuff
>and pickle horse-man
>from a safe distance
>an elegant solution
>he's trying to convince me he's the devil
>not through language,
>there's no way he can speak to me in here,
>but through the motions and revolutions of his pickle stuff.
>Because pickle horse-man is part horse
>and a horse communicates mostly through body language
>it's not so much what he says,
>and he says a lot,
>but it's the subtext
>it's what he's doing when he says it
>and he's acting out quite a bit
>and being quite the rascal
>to try and show me how evil he is
>but i can tell
>it's just a frustrated act he's putting on
>he's not really the devil
>he's just being a huge brat
>because i left
>so he's torturing all his little empty bonkeys
>or partial bonkeys
>and the going-ons are all very unholy
>so i shouldn't say he's NOT the devil
>because the devil's in him
>and the devil's in me
>-the devil's in him
>and the devil's in me-
>that's a nice refrain
>i wish miles davis were here
>to enjoy that little refrain
>actually, i do not wish miles davis were here
>i am SCARED of mister miles davis
>and his hostile undertones.
>i am watching the fractal spiraling pickle-verse
>but i try to see only the horse in it
>or the "horseness"
>because it's the only part of pickle horse-man i understand
>somewhere in there is a graceful and strong horse
>but threaded throughout is the belligerent shouting
>and ape antics of man
>a garbled mess of mixed intentions
>that no horse should have to bear
>when i look at pickle horse-man,
>i try to see the horse,
>but really,
>i see a small arena.
>where the man and the horse are meant to come together as one
>but the horse is scared
>and the man lacks confidence
>the man does not know what to do
>he threatens the horse
>and the horse runs wild
>and sometimes the man coerces the horse
>to do the man's will
>but the horse never forgets the fear
>and throws the man
>the arena keeps them together
>locked
>wrestling
>confused
>i don't want to be that horse.
>i'll reveal to you a weakness of horses:
>growing up in the plains
>we lack boundaries
>unlike the donkey
>who grew into itself in the rocky hills
>i wish i were a donkey
>a donkey does no work
>if the devil is involved.
>in this bubble
>i can see pickle horse-man
>but i can see myself, too
>reflected back to me
>in pearlescent soapiness
>a white horse
>and it suddenly strikes me
>the whiteness of the horse
>milk white
>ghostly
>mute
>beautiful
>but with a certain terror to it.
>and for all its perfection
>what has it accomplished?
>narcissistic circus
>agitating the horse-man
>and i hear echoing up from the past
>that old familiar song
>-they buried me in that grey tomb that knows no sound
>but i am still around-
>i dreamt i were a donkey
>in the rocky hills
>outside jerusalem
>and the lord called for me
>to the mount of olives
>and the disciples lay their coats on me
>and the followers lay their coats along the road for us to walk on
>and together we went into that fair city
>to fulfill a prophecy
>and together we went up to the summit
>to cleanse the Temple of God
>-or i may simply be a single drop of rain
>but i will still remain-
>and it occurs to me what i must do
>and i visit upon myself
>so there is two of us in the bubble
>the one: tall, perfect, and white
>the other: small, grey, and stubborn.
>part of me
>but not the whole
>i tell him go
>through the waters
>go and be born
>and do good things
>so off he goes
>like a bolt through the darkness
>and the bubble bursts
>the dreamer awakens!