Well, I guess I can't hold off fur ever. Dis iz my brudder Maximillian, da mad Burr-man. Yes, he iz hand-sum, but he iz xtreme temper-mental.
He haz never felt I do da work he does gardin' da beans house, and patrollin' da neigh-bore hood fur coyotes & racoonz. He iz fearless, but I have a bit of a dezire to just let da nature be what it iz. I am zen, & da Burr-man iz obsessed wit patrollin' nite & moon & day-lite.
Dadee iz thinkin bout running him fur prezident in 2008, but only if he stops da peein in da house! & momee tinks he out to stop da howlin' at me, when I yam layin' on my back, gazin at da gardun or maybe my frend Delilah. Maxi likez da curly-tail gurl Iris, cuz she is so chic in her multi-colored coat.
So my poem fur today iz:
Runnin fur da hillz
As da long summer of politicz & war
ravishes da good thoughts and tingz of life,
run to da hillz & forget your pain & strife.
As da next year creepeth closer
& hardenz frost into words of debate,
run to da hillz & forget your inborn traits.
As da August moon clozes in
& illum-i-natez da plum speckled breast of da hillz,
run—yes I say run—and do not, do not kill!