dogstar raze sometimes i dream about 'skites that never were. say i meet a woman in guelph, with a husband who smiles without opening his mouth and a senior dog who's too tired now to do much more than flop down on the couch and look bored. and months or years after that day, i land on a blathe that connects the kind of animal he was with a fixed luminous point in the sky. and the memory of a single black speaker i saw on the kitchen floor through the open arms of her living room tells me this person who's writing about the death of something she loved is the same strange soul i shared part of an afternoon with once, knowing we would never see each other again. then i wake up and even her words are gone. 240512 what's it to you? who go blather from