“Hedgehog or fox?”
Uncle History
Thinks its foolish
He knows
Sentience
Ain’t a critter
Nor is it a god
Not a metaphor
Not Whitman’s grass
It’s only
A pinched curve
Where words
Slip through
Like amoebas
“Carpal consciousness”
And if
You don’t have arms
There’s a tight bend
At the top
Of the spine
Where thoughts glide
Like flattened swans
Swan-thoughts
Are never obedient
To Isaiah Berlin
Though its rumored
The do like musicians
Planet of the Blind 