sit at the base of a gray and craggy-faced
to her hips
in loam, as
she silently reveals the geology
this place. “Is
this the world?” I
ask her. “Or
my mind creates?
We must uncenter our minds from ourselves;
We must unhumanize our views a little, and
awoke with a wolf, or a
large dog, standing next to me.
Maybe I was still
was a wolf,” she
"Last night, a
pack was seen
crossing the valley—not to
bear witness, but to be found out."