Suppose, you say, it began with the chickens,the way one wing raised could unbalance,the way they learnedto tilt their heads in a concession to gravity, all at once. Yes! I like it, I say.The pleasure of synchronicity.The pigs, being dominantin cognition, would be next.They might listen to the rainand learn rhythmfrom the downspout. Music, it seemed to…

I’m gonna love you like nobody’s loved you with the rain flickering against my parted windowand the sheets pooled around my hips was when I felt the first note at the bottom of my stomachthat suggested it wasn’t the bottom and there was more mystery to fall throughthan I could imagine perhaps less the bottom of my stomach than the precipice of my stomachand my first…

Something so heavy with meaning all we can do     is drag our hands across the surface itching to define to fixas a compass point                               navigating what I thought I understood because I lived within its skin and yet      …