Dog Is Us

A Present Such as This

it is unbecoming to surrender your’n self to a Bald Man who wants to take your’n ball only to throw it forth and yon

we are together, and ones who found fire together, chins held high together —

we are lucky, Runt, to have been alive during the American blip to have taken a piss in this post-Cambrian lava drip

do the daily doing of things in spite of the daily diversion and distraction.

we are all of us quick ghosts, putting our breath on the things that we find and the things that have fallen

the rush of a fun the movement of a true and a good. it’s

I will make and have made around you, these circles around you forever, swam.

somewhere not here, not anywhere but fallen, these morning words, we are only drunk,  stunned silent, waiting

the Bald Man thinks we can mean something by the words we say, the  ropes we shake, hearts  we break, as if  anything means anything  at…

you think there is the green grass. you think there is the dying leaf. you think there is love. you think there is pain.

the moment just before our footsteps break the sky below us when we could have been anything. we are never so free to disappear as now.

spill yourself onto a green, make of your brain a white-noise eruption of crazy