Dogslandia

1: “Spring is the prize of the birds that survived,” cackled grackles The pigeons have no language like theirs, they coo and scratch t...

The absence of things is the greatness of things The greatest war that ever was was never fought The greatest fight that ever was was avo...

Where is the patron saint of happiness, of things and people never lost, of a health that blossoms self and painless mornings and easy los...

Everyone I know and love, and everything I need Exists upon an eggshell, hung by a handshake as light as a feather; sewn needle and thread...

Blackberries are roses. Don't let anyone forget. Also apples and cherries are roses, the bloom has the blush, the center familiar, the...

In which the demon speaks is that which lives For nothing dead can carry demonology, Those determinate souls who will certainly Go down w...

We love in the kingdom of broken toys Yet often forget that we are of them But — let’s be truthful — nothing works right when It’s just r...

Believe in darkness, for in shadows truths reveal The shape of shadows, the way the room traverses Where the foot breaks on wood and remem...

We bloom at night when nothing but moths are pouring from the shadows, our perfume calls all their tongues to dip into our womb Where we ...

To sing of miracles, let us sing the spiders' song This misty early spring, rains crystallize the webs the architecture glistens like ...

For years, they've heard us all complain About those kids, how they are doing things wrong How they do not know anything, their songs ...

Would you sacrifice your life for gas station burritos? Someone did. They bled with all their friends and lovers dead And carved into pie...

As I live, I hide these nests inside my hair Where songs are born, slip out, take wing I try to say the growths are merely things Long lo...

Everything we see and everything we touch Began as a dream in somebody's head All tools are imagined, all laws come from beds where d...