Prairie dogs invite the sun underground,
And it enters the burrows, its nose bleeding, feet cracked.
Nights begin with cold air in the lungs of timid monsters,
With broken urinals in the public restrooms.
Birds can somehow take pictures with the eyes
And lose them far above in the morning.
The hair of light disappears in the songs;
It is singing that brings disaster, wearing
The masks of the living, one after another.