Legacy
Having been a dog
I sleep in Greek,
say I believe in
supper, not work.
Poems on the topic: dog
Poems on the topic “dog” on Poets.by.
Without My Glasses
night turns soft
as a leather strop
under the stars’ fuzzy lights
florescent incandescent
my surgery proceeds
with fewer instruments
train whistle
a black dog’s bark
a meteor’s incision takes
a second to heal
though the open heart
always misses its cage
Aftermath
open table
the moon takes every seat
makes the glassware glisten
and the cutlery glitter
or is this not linen
are we not in the aftermath of a feast
listen to the distant grief
of an abandoned dog
alone yet locked in orbit
who wouldn’t howl
Epizoochory
spiderweb
on my glasses
name that tune
lost dog
enchanter’s nightshade burs
in its ears
tick-trefoil reversing
in mid-air
white spears
of black cohosh
an insomniac firefly
waterfall that only sings
when the stream’s a trickle
children’s cries
the holiday sky empty
but for a vulture
Goth
going to burn
in the burnyard
a dog would save me
worse than my last
night’s mouth
the corn-ordinary world I scorn
being infinite as
my desire of seeing
in and with the night
Losing Maizy
Maizy the terrier had always traveled in circles — around the park, around the block, around the garden — but toward the end her circles tightened drastically till they occupied no more than a corner of the kitchen. She no longer recognized her own front door and became utterly lost. Except, it seems, on the lap of her life-long companion, my partner Rachel. Her fits become more frequent and prolonged, each time leaving her a bit more impaired. Finally Rachel made the agonizing decision to have her euthanized. She found a vet who made house calls, and when the time came, held Maizy as if she were an infant while the drugs kicked in. Rachel said she felt her relax all over, and then, a few seconds later, simply stop breathing.
An inquiry concerning the poetics of, like, whatever
The poem behind the poem says
what do we do with the other
creatures of this world?
Those that stay put, stay put;
those that move, raise their mobile
devices to the window
and press record. What do we do
with the other languages of this world,
the other ways to forget or fall silent?
Dogs can’t be the only ones
whose vocalizations have adapted
to the inattentiveness of the human ear.
And there’s a bird in New Guinea
that can imitate with equal accuracy
a camera shutter or a chainsaw.
What do we do with ourselves
England by Rail
i.
A crane in a scrap metal yard
unclenches a great, magnetic claw.
Breast-shaped mounds of soil
sit two fields away from the pit,
a future fish pond.
Gulls glean in the plow’s dark wake.
A large, white dog follows
two boys along a dry creek
while we in our fast train
hurtle backwards over the sleepers
in their gravel beds.
ii.
A signal goes out
& we creep slowly through the night
so the driver can inspect the track.
The Fullness of Time
I crouch down to get a book from a low shelf
& the room swims
I steady myself with both hands
at that very moment on the other side of the ocean
you are waking from a five-hour nap
it’s 1:00 a.m.
a cat or a fox has just screamed in your garden
your dog wakes with you
follows you downstairs
we talk
the five hours between us momentarily erased
you ask what the bible means by the phrase
in the fullness of time
your hair’s still in a bun
pierced by a pair of chopsticks
Pointer
Persistence pays:
I once saw a pheasant just
where the stone dog points.
Shrimp Salad
Prawns or shrimp? The cat likes them
either way. We find him on the counter
with a large piece of red onion
& a lettuce leaf in his mouth, a sudden
fan of salads. The cat is a true eccentric
& quite sure he is a dog, while
the dog of course thinks she is
a human. And we humans are the most
curious of all: we believe
we are what we eat, though it’s seldom
that we’re present for the eating.
If we eat a salad, we’re already looking
forward to the dessert. Omnivores,
dwellers in the benthic zone, we have
an unusual tolerance for toxins.
Our strongest muscles pull us rapidly
Alex Rue
Brown hair,
Hazel eyes,
A smile like the sun.
She'd love to sing and dance for us,
And have more hoodies than she should. (duh)
Her favorite food would be green apples,
Oh, and she'd love to read and draw.
And anytime she sees a dog
We'll be hearing her name it all day long.
If she ever fell out of a tree
(which she will if she's like me)
She'd run inside and laugh it off-
"Don' worry daddy, I fine!"
And if she's like you,
I'll have almost no time on my hands,
Cause I'll be too busy keeping her out of trouble
Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem
Or try: