Even in a group he is alone–listening to the branches, he’s the tribe’s paranoiac child.
Impatient, vaguely dizzy, aware of fences.
Talk & he will talk back. But he won’t say the words that preoccupy him: marrow, wind, caution, stars.
Upright, in a sleigh of his own making, & fast clouds, sudden moonlight.
Planet of the Blind 