Two Dogs Passing Through the Yard
One’s a male Aussie mix,
either young or small, the other
a rangy lab-something, female,
the junior dog, both headed north
through the yard.
watches from beneath the truck,
A teacher asked a student if she could
accept practice without realization.
It’s a very direct question,
but hard to apprehend.
It’s maddening that language can’t catch
the fish in its own rivers, but it can’t.
Even poetry’s nothing
but word-nets full of rips and holes.
Yet here I am again, writing with white
on white or washing dirty carrots with the hose.
Either I forgot the question,
or the question no longer makes sense.