Still

I am looking forward. I am worried about highway-ponies.

Bunny, at Home

I was going to tell you about Pony Island, and I had a story about thin wire fences and frenzies and finally getting the hell out of dodge all written out for you here. New things are happening all the time. Where the ponies live, in Maryland, my eye has got its bunny-twitch again. Just the minute I landed it's back, and that's got to have something to do with ponies or not-ponies. So I guess I'm telling you about Pony Island, and I guess telling you all about thin wire fences and frenzies and slithering out of my old skin in the Ohio River Basin just isn't right, because here I am, like it never happened, a bunny at home again. 

Scapegoats

Tomorrow, I'm going to find some wild creature that I've hung my hopes on, and I'm going to coax it toward me by some mysterious force. It will be perfect. It will be magic. It will wander away, quickly, and I'll feel better after that.

PONY ISLAND

Here I am telling you about pendulums when the PONIES are coming, or really I am going, but it isn't important, because they are PONIES, and if they let me down, boy oh boy are you gonna know about it.

I feel like I am already splashing around in summer streams, because the air is so mild, and it's all come at once like summer does. I know better. After the PONIES and the car-rides and the rust-belt domes, there'll be some ice-storm, or hail-storm, or worms worms worms, and I will crawl back inside again until the first of May. 

Oh, I hope the PONIES are magic. Maybe they really are.