Today I have the strangest feeling
that my mind is turned inside out
for all to behold the flea circus.
And then there is the feeling
that my heart has been swallowed up
by the endless grass. A dream
once: a magpie bare, without
feathers and covered in sores,
jumped in the alchemist's furnace,
and surfaced three days later
in the eyes of a raven-haired beauty.
Such a sad black pebble falling in water.