We breaked for two weeks, in
which time the Bald Man
finished a manuscript
and we killed a
groundhog.
We each took a side of that slow critter
in our jaws, and we shook it with the
head snap crazy until it sighed,
limp and liquid, in its
own cooling blood.
Our pupils, full with black.
Our pulse, heavy and quick.
We have done the finding of
things, and we have found the
meaning in our
hunger to find.
Our positive findback loop, temporarily rested.
Our Barber (Groomer) Paradox momentarily resolved.
TAGS: Dogs | Groundhog | Shed | Summer2015