The challenge was to write a poem using: translucent, black, ride, stuff, house, strike, purpose, yellow, peace, road
The rough guide to peri-apocalyptic travel
I am become translucent on my horse
and yet must ride, the desert not too far
behind, the desert not so far ahead;
its stuff and substance blow around your house,
as I pause to drink and strike some sort of pose.
What is my purpose? You do not want to know—
the desert will be on you soon, all sere
and grey, and it's late within the day, and I
imagine yellow bricks upon the road:
it helps me go, my name was never Dorothy
and I am grown translucent on the horse,
which is still black. His name is Acceptance. Peace.
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