some days, Woman dresses in pink pajamas like rabbit meat in my bowl
Tonight I wait at the door waiting for woman or boy to walk through while my roommate licks her backside
Upstairs the boy sleeps Downstairs woman reads Outside my bowl fills with rain
Ah, the joys of feeding dogs raw meat.
I WROTE THIS POEM FOR MAMA WHEN I WATCHED HER RIDE AWAY: THERE GOES MY MAMA ON HER BICYCLE OF DREAMS SILENCE AS THE STREET ACCEPTS HER LOVE MAJI!
more often excited surely meat eaten albeit tomorrow
I can’t believe it was only yesterday that I last ate supper Thank you.
If there was only one choice I had as a dog as a companion as a ruler It would be to eat tripe out of a ceramic bowl on the deck while woman watched, naked, from the hammock
These words so true and powerful have been written for you, my dear loved sister for it is on this day that you first handed me your rawhide half chewed and smelling sweetly of your breakfast from the morning before.