there is a limited amount
of space on the futon
to absorb sun because it is
another day in (x) of them
they are staring as I say this
in my pantsless existence
with feet pressed together
on sweaty carpet
(originally published in Raw Dog Press, Spring 2022)
When in view I know I launch like a rocket toward you
but you are my favorite scent in the universe
I watch stars when sprinting through open fields
my neck beaming orange from my electric collar
you have given me many such gifts
but nothing can replicate your hand on my fur
you know I don’t need to shake my butt when I walk
I’m only playing but it is funny when you mimic my moves
& we have so many years & so few
and every day is so new I can’t bear to learn
the name of another dog or tree because everything is beautiful
& holy & profound in the way you let me roam free the times
I only need to go outside to pee & look, everything’s so gorgeous
I can’t bear to sit still & yet will return to you when you call my name
(originally published in Perspectives Magazine, Spring 2017)
no one else spell w – a –
l – k jus ta invigarate
our senses & tendons
jus me & u, ta be outside
& sniff da wine in roses, .
when ya dance arms a whirlwind i dont speak
cuz i kno a days come we both dancin
& howlin, listen da moon whisprin secrets
& i dont want ya palms leave my full belly
da way da sun snatch ya gone in mornins.
dont want u to wake : it mean some
time u stay , other time da wooden gate
outside squeak & take u where my nose
cant find u, , sometime fa days . i chew
on bones u gave til my tongue become
a skeleton thirstin . , i wait fa blue sky
ta stop ringin da sun , when da day turn
gray , when u somehow materalize ..
dats when i have u : darkness : u sleepin
on ya bed a bleach & purple catmint .
i pray da bright awful requiem dont
replay– when u rise i wonder if
today u turn ta harmony , , or void
& how long . but
wid u beside me ,
no need ta wonder .–
u,, protected , & me ,
nose fulla ya petals ,
da sauvignon in roses .
(originally published in Sediments Literary-Arts Journal, Autumn 2016)
This dog has seen you paint red the walls
and its color fade from sheetrock.
Rest. You walk butterfly wings,
each step a budding stem.
You and Jack love similarly, a dance
of tongue-and-stomp. Long-nailed
paws clomp heartbeats to the closed
door, painted white– a desire panting
for who is on the other side– and he waits,
as you have, on so many nights.
(originally published in Heartbeat, Issue 2)
the not-even-mine salt-and-pepper pup
domesticates me
the longer i hang
the more chameleon my intentions
the smell of sweat from rain-pawed feet
i wave yesterday’s socks
like american flags
i say, speak english –
even though i do not understand
(originally published in White Stag – Volume II, Issue I)