Hoove

In her father’s pasture was a bull and when it stamped and hooved the ground and bellowed below the trees it was a preacher and now the Preacher was a bull.

They had left soft ridges where they had hooved the ground up with their snoots and baby hands.

[…] I didn’t find it, but came upon a cow moose blind, stinking with heat, moaning, and hooving the black peat with such blood, such fury, the woods broke open, the earth recovered her children, her silences, her poems.

white heat red sunfired horses / tails swishing snakes / galloping / we were riders lion / headed hooving the hard ground / dust and cloud dragon and angel

Cows, or something bigger, hoove the ground, pick at it, shovel up the dirt around my foot.

A spoonbill stalks its future with primaeval staggers: so, this is Grace? he wonders cutting twine from pulpy bails, the sheep congregating and snorting air that is sharp, shaking glimmers of an indolent sun from burr-bitten wool, hooving the ground.

What I want is Montana at Gold Rush: fevered, muscled horses hooving the elevations rushing fortunes in ice streams, hearts pumped white to bursting, passion pressed as sweat and hair into the back, the ache ridden to powder, steel shattered, and rock.

The animals, wild-drunk on country wine, hooved the ground, lacking a quarry, which was soon provided for them—another pig, followed by a wild chase to kill it.