from a boulder he plucks out a needle.  

you are a woman, he says, you have to know how to sew back an ear. without waiting for a reply, he takes out his ear from his shirt pocket and hands it to me.

i insert my tongue in the eye of the needle and start to sew.  

Neither a hero nor an insect Paganini sits naked on the floor. A sofa and dozens of throw pillows are floating in his outstretched arms. Possessed by foxes, revolving doors and empty flowerpots he is a cry inside the circle. His soul sold to the devil is nothing but a white carpet gone gray. Around the nearest telephone pole dusk wraps his violin and a snake. Standing on the window ledge, revealing a pale, hairless chest, Paganini learns that his demons are a red winter cap pulled tight over his skull. 

Imprisoned in a mirror… silhouettes; a dog woman & a cat woman on all fours; an invisible god grunting commands; his claws hidden in a red glove; his face covered with warm bread; shame tunneling the sky; loneliness like rain, loneliness like snow. After you finish painting your ghosts on my back you shall gift me your right hand to use as a lucky charm. 

& in the belly of the moon a raven & in the beak of the raven a ring & engraved on the ring Eternity & in Eternity different entrances and exits to a nest & in the nest a mirror, a pair of scissors and ants… 

With dandelions it becomes possible again. Poems come to her like dreams.

              stonewind birdsky rivermouth
              fishtongue rainbowheart grassfingers
              foxdream rabbitnest wolfteeth
              sugarbox moonwhip raincollar
              waterbed swordnight lotusache