when i'm prickly or remote or stuck i wish you'd look at me like this. waiting for the sun to warm into nectar and flow into wings.

watching where the rabbit disappears.

on the third day of his death

  crows ate his eyes and his brain

  these memories won't wait

there's a party in my mind

and i hope it never stops.

i'm only sleeping.

hard up

i died a little today

the dead listening

the pendulum wait

herbacaeous border patrol.

dogs are mute and obedient, but they have watched us and know us and can smell how pitiful we are. it should astonish us, move us, overwhelm us that our dogs continue, incredibly, to follow us and obey us. dogs must have seen through us, they they must possess a crushing insight that thousands of years of obedience holds in check. tove jansson, The True Deceiver