Rider

I’ve lost it. I’m back. I jumped over the track to enjoy the water where it’s at. I took the reins of a steel horse and steered the wind for a feathers course. Filled with steam I chug along, made of flesh and out of song. I expect to drown, the wind blows hard, I make music far from sound. With instruments bound from other hands, with words and wind the sound commands. To slow down the wind like that, words are like an instrument. To slow down the words again the wind blows by like San Joaquins.