there's an inexpressible sorrow. i saw it in dad's eye. i wanted to take a picture. i carried it around, place after place. there was no place for it to go, not in this world. i tried to think it into the fireplace. to see it burn, but it was behind me, watching. it had to go back inside, like when i was little alone with the animals. i hear a coyote just now cry by the tracks. the snowplows scrape the pavement. the heavy train on icy rails. the inexpressible sorrow of humans. it's only me. i know it, i know i'm responsible for it. who else? i've asked please hold it with me. be in it. it's not fair to ask. don't ask. it's the feeling on the mountain with all the trees destroyed, for toilet paper, for houses that burn. the crows, the quail, all the animals crying or silent. the ones on the naked earth, the apes in the cages in the zoos of the world, the prisons of souls, watching the destruction. the roads of the dead. the open air prisons, genocide after genocide and the propaganda of normalcy. i can't express it. it's three a.m. the dogs in their houses, the coyotes underground, the cold, the heat, searing my eyes. dad hunched in the kitchen, dead ten years, the kitchen probably still there, another dad leaning there. this is going nowhere, can i think something else, in this place of lost thoughts, i keep thinking we're still here, eyes searing in the womb of space, blank, blinking, hearing what we cannot see.