MiaowConsider me. I sit here like Tiberius, inscrutable and grand. I will let "I dare not"wait upon "I would"and bear the tangling your small guitar because you are my lowland foster me with milk. Why wet my paw? Just keep me in a bag and no one knows the truth. I am familiar with witches and stand a better chance in hell than you for I can dance on hot bricks, leap your height and land on all fours. I am the servant of the Living God. I worship in my way. Look into these slit green stone sand follow your reflected lights into the dark. Michel, Due de Montaigne, knew. You don't play with me. I play with you.

The Talking Horse and the Sad Girl and the Village Under the Sea: Poems