The Corduroy Mtn. A Dream Including More Than Wet Hooves Noah Falck T onight the wind is Lithuanian as she closes her eyes and runs her hands over the dark hairs of her left leg. Snow falling outside. I hear the creek kissing through her first dream beneath a bridge that becomes a congested road of elegant buffalo. I feel her leg twitch, the pricking hairs, and think of the buffalo holding traffic, their wet hooves kicking dust onto the windshield of someone's neighbor. previous | next Added to The Corduroy Mtn. on May the Fifth in the year Two Thousand and Nine.