for we are too dogs

at first i feel the fear of that stage
when we keep telling ourselves of dreams

last night and the other nights about
our ancestors how grandpa talks how

grandma tells secrets that we too keep
telling to ourselves after we slept

on those silent dawns where we get
so restless for having nothing to do

short of visions and so we gather every
dream like those left in ricefields after

the bumpy harvest as though we want to
keep all these at ease and contained

but we must be as realistic as the dogs
which in their short lives have to get

rid of the sound of their past barkings
sharp paws and teeth and cold noses.