Craddled & trained Ball catching but I prefer food Sniffing through the garbage bag Hopefully my master’s nowhere around Chasing the squirrels and field bunnies Sprawling out in the shade Rolling over back and forth to take that itch away Aware of my surroundings Keen…

The have to lick. It’s how they think. They’ll lick your face and make you blink.   They’ll lick their balls in front of you they’ll lick another’s Really? Eeeww…   They’ll lick a bone that has no meat they’ll lick the floor they’ll lick…

Her soft brown eyes melted at the sign of her boy Her nub tail would shake the couch if you held her toy, but one day, the door was left open and she ran I doubt the driver saw her, just a slick flash of…

They call her a woman, that luminous nighttime lamp. Was it, perhaps, her coy face peeking behind gossamer curtain clouds? Or could it be her gentle luminosity, her changeable personality? I see her each evening, My love, my life, so beautifully full and bright. My…

We sensed the voice of reaction but we were still too busy to tell. It was born from unconscious inaction, and there was no warning bell as it planned it’s sickly hell. But before we noticed it had begun the flag of Fascism blocked our sun.   We watched as voices spitting bile…

Autobiography of a Face How long I have been a window to this world, So many years have passed by. Yet thinking of other faces I’ve known, I tell the body to push on with a sigh.

Autobiography of a Face As I look at my Bosco eyes, As I look at my crescent nose, As I look at my snail-shell ears, As I look at my piano-key smile, I realize that I’m as delectable as chocolate, as magical as the moon,…

My stomach hurts! Head foggy with sedentary gloom. I need a walk. It’s beautiful out. Cloudy, chilly, hot, With birds chirping, and breeze blowing I haven’t walked in my forest for weeks, And weeks and weeks, Too busy escaping the drum and drone of For next,…

Autobiography of These Hands of Mine These hands have nurtured young, caressed lovers, washed uncounted dishes and pots and pans, hung laundry, washed the body of my deceased mother, held hands of friends, and strangers too, in support during joy and tragedy and they have welcomed…

Boring people, boring lives, boring dates, the city. Superficial cares, and superficial stares. Do you have an original thought? Wearing a mask, playing a part, dinner, dessert, goodnight. “You’re cute,” “You’re hot,” I’d rather be shot. I know what I want, you’re not. Depth, care,…