Because rabbits die at sea I cannot say the name of them. They need what a fire needs and what I need. Their fur too wet to float they sink to the bottom of painted rocks. They do better in the terrifying woods. On the other hand, I’m living in a comfortable bed. I have to say I feel the rabbit head and empty in the beginning of the month. They make jumps and expect me to jump after. I have never even studied them closely. I have never put my face very close to anything and looked. There are woods from which even I am excluded.
Forests are scarier. Though its glow is heavy and I act bizarre. Though you can but do not walk the stairs or knock it with a stone. But I need no moon in the absolute night. In which the animals are enhanced. A rabbit casts his shadow on the moon and he still cannot die there. You can die in a place you can visit. With so many exclusions is it worth pretending that life is not pretend. So it is the dream of a rabbit that washes ashore. And when I go to the woods this is only my shadow.
MAN IT IS HARD TO PUT DOGS IN MACHINES
I am not like you waiting around.
I wade around in different wets.
But the lines in my skull flicker on
when I love my master’s voice.
The same way his brain starts to glow
when he chooses among the girls’ names.
They are Sophie and Stella and Sue
and I watch his tongue glow at the names which it made.
Still I hear names as brown and I see them as brown
same-same pointless brown spitting in pointless space.
A name as if we don’t all shit from our guts.
As if shit’s neither destined for maggots or moonlight.
So I smell the moon’s haze
and am blind on occasion, so terribly blind.
There’s a good salon I get eyelashes
glued there an inch from my birth eyes.
The lashes I got, they shine right when damp
so I go in the pond with you.
In some cases—plenty—you lose.
Out on the grass and on trees
you didn’t go inside the real one
and you never were.
Some people like mysteries
but only once they solve them
I guess it’s like doing a good deed
and printing it in the newspaper.
I’m not obsessed by dying only
I already got underwater and wet.
I like the bare truthless cavities
but I don’t want to test out my eyes there
like a star kicks away from its five points.
It bruises and burns to the dirt
to the sphere in the dirt which I drew there.
Sadie Dupuis lives in western Massachusetts, and is ostensibly a writer and a musician. Right now she does this band Speedy Ortiz and when she doesn't do that she sits on the couch with her pit bull Buster and watches Y7 programming like Yo Gabba Gabba. She tweets.