The Man of Rabbits has disappeared.
The sky itself is undone.
The transits in the Earth are speaking.
The moon howls; coyotes give off light.

Black labyrinths return their lost.
He’s gone. El Hombre De Conejo.
We used to be swarms of bees together.
Now his shadow is a famous bird.

Every time I remember I catch on fire again.
The cracked moon spills dogs into my heart.
I will follow his disappearance.
My favorite gun is a library.