when i think of escaping the city now it's just a thought, i think i can't escape because i have to walk the dog and if i leave my apartment it will the ceiling will make a waterfall and the squirrels will start their own cooperative and i'll be in some bit of nature yet to be undermined or denuded or mountains lopped off like disposable heads, where the growth reminds me of my stasis, of my do-nothingness, and that if i pause i will immediately be humus. some ideas mostly are better left in diary form and the goofy inaction of dreams. 

when i think of escaping and i see the coyote i feel escape without leaving, i feel in love with the way the city looking and pruning and developing at the moment it stops reverts to nature even this quasi nature the lapsed city i feel the spirit sigh and lope and flow like coyote left to be in this city not chosen but arrived within.