Monday, March 29, 2010





In the morning we go


To the place with the logs
And with other dogs.

In the morning we go
There’s grass and trees
My face by his knees
He moves very slowly
And it's almost holy.

In the morning we go
To run! now's our chance
While he’s lost in his stance
But I stand by and guard
Close, within a yard
While he waves and sways about
Churning foes, slow, in and out.

In the morning we go
I can’t see the others in the fight
If I could I’d surely bite
But loyal as my kind must be
I stand by him and try to see
Try to stand as firm as a rock
Working maybe as a block
Somehow fending off the ghost
He battles daily after toast.

In the morning we go
Even if I am no help
I stay calm and daren’t yelp
And every day he wins I think
At least when I see him blink
And straightn up, pick up our leads
The enemy surely recedes
And then the day begins a new
I bark and sigh, as you say: “phew!”
Run! I frolic, full of glee
I’m glad he’s beaten that Tai Chi.

1 comment:

Lil' Danes Picklescott said...

This is fucking wicked. It gave me a mind boner of bona fide poetic sonic head food. Sickness. You have utterly nailed the mindset of the narrator. Illy.