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when men fall, after cervantes

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poetic response to Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes, for class

transcription:
In which all those who ride a horse are tied together in their drastic, lonesome creep upon the world. Of the cowboys and highwaymen and the great knight Don Quixote, who are known to dream those dreams known only to the men of the road. And by strangest chance, they all dream the same:

You push my face through the grass so the blood that runs from my nose falls straight to the dirt beneath. The worms writhe in the red, my breastplate sinks into the dew.
"We may now assume that dawn is not far off," says Sancho.
I’d imagine a sagittarius in that way a sagittarius is a lilac bundle of stars along the neck.
Slowly I've come to inherit lines of poetry that you had made me from.
There’s not much left to do with them but pawn them off for a quick buck

"I pray you, Sancho, keep silent, since God, who has filled me with courage to attempt this unseen and terrible adventure, will take care to watch over my safety and console you in your sadness."

Clean your boots in the wet grass, of the dust picked up on your way here
”I hate that defector! God, his callousness!
He steps upon the stage to debut his madness”
Sometimes, I decide the way the night goes.
Sometimes, when you decide to write a poem, I would have rather been asleep.

The dream is terrible. It's a dead man in the horse's trough, it's a stiff ear in a metal helmet. The dream is being trapped at the foot of the mountain amongst the bodies of women who never loved you to begin with. The dream is bloody on the ground, an inch deep and begging for more.
Category
Highway Men
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