Beyond the hills, the hills. Behind the hills, the hills. And beyond the hills, the hills. And behind the hills, the hills. Wrong-headed bird sees an enemy in a pane of glass. They are taking the air under the trees smoking cigarettes. I have tied my horses at the door so I will not be riding roughshod over you. she writes haiku in shorthand   At The Seminar Of Philosophy Did the Dutch Visiting Professor say— Veracious God or Voracious God? An idle thought sidles into my head and evaporates. I am kissing the cigarette that will not kill me.…