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Hear chac Dog Barking? He Wanes [0 Gee ineo Your Poem Once rabbits were my all. I lived for their delicate whiff, sniffed for miles, followed sweet-scented scrub bush to bush, sifted through leafand brush in meadows ofquitch for rank pockets where those riff"-raff twitchers hid, dreamt ofthe sharp white grip on wily rabbit Resh, pithy and tufted. Now they've gone simple, dull as heifers in a stubbled field. Who even wants them, skittering beneath this excdlem nose? These days, I favor barking. That, too, I still do well. I bark at caterpillars, squirrels, the moon advancing bit by bit above the hill. Hear me barking? Write it down. Move in for the kill. 43 ...

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