i called a dog to
the door the dog come to be
a dog ever was

Fairies knit tales, but they don’t have tails, I don’t think.  
Dog’s do.
Long,
with an abrupt end – that’s usually moving,
while never escaping its tether.
Is that the idea? – that no matter how far the tail goes,
it will never get out of hand.
Unless it’s docked of course – that is the saddest tail,
a stump of a tail that still tries its best,
but is destined for a short and disappointing end.

If I were a dog without a tail, I think I’d think it was the end of the world.

If I were a fairy without a tale – I would be sadder still.

The End.

you were eight weeks old
a small thing
but our hands were smaller
still, you fit there
held as though you were meant to break
maybe someday, but not today.

today, you made love into a character trait
it curled into our chests and settled there, somewhere
and the weight of it has grown
for i have not room to breathe
it has not left.

now, there is nothing left of you
save for blurred images
blurry eyes, salt water drops rippling in an ocean—

i used to take you there.
there, you would greet everyone new
like they existed just to learn your name
there, a child said hello to you for the first time
fifteen years later, you said it back for the last.

and i could not help but to think
if you had died eleven days later
you would have seen the flowers bloom.

my favourite description of love
comes from a curt confession from bukowski:
"love is a dog from hell".

what more does one want to know?
if one has felt love,
and i mean,
really felt it;
suffered for it;
felt the brunt of despair;
known the sleepless nights;
the restless nights;
the doubt;
the belief;
the constant flip flop
between the two;
between heartbreak and happiness;
the will to endure all sadness;
the knowledge that such strength
will only bring about sadness;
the horror of seeing in real time
love end
from the eyes of another;
to have been crushed by a weight
which could leave you without air
for years
and yet oddly
still have the presence of mind
to look back on it with tenderness;
to know that lust and love
are entirely separate;
and one needs only a memory
to keep the embers alive.

then i believe
a dog from hell
sums it up rather nicely.

That child,
seems to be reading to my old dog friend.

Can we teach a dog to read and see the significance
some men find in syllables unsaid?

In print,
Sibilant denture whistles, perk no ear
silent esses no ear can hear, un spoken esses essentially
signify nothing, simple noise.

But a good dog will respond to the slightest whistle, as if…
A sibyl said listen,
hear the wind enter the world once with
inspired expired whistling sound found in song

this way,
this is the way,

Say plain the sound of each sign.

Alpha Beta, Aleph Bet, Ayee Bee

See, these let words be saved as signals

Letters, let silent sounds hold meaning in

signs of sounds men can make,
Like
Ah. or baah, which certain ruminants make as well…

A man can say ah, and mean plain nothin'

and some dogs can too,
but when dogs say, ah, it's often

a yawn gone into a groan like a stretched out
awww as the back arches
backward and front paws stretch out.
Tail swishing slow sweeps
swirling dust mites in a shaft of morning light,

more wind than any butterfly wing or
humming bird wing could stir.

"Remember", his brown eyes say,
this posture always meant,
"let's do some fun,
go for a run,
follow a scent"

But then, another yawn
and a shake. a glance from those knowing eyes,

signifying, signing , if I am happy, he is, too.

A dog friend then punctuates, by curling down into
a black and white comma
with a bit of golden tail
covering the nose
twitiching ante

cipitating a chase that leads to this new place,
where new sounds can sound
insignificant,
dream time humms,
not worth the effort to hear,
since we are not going anywhere, today.

Ah, be, still.
Tomorrow is the myth.
My dog swears that's true.
Today, or never, and
never's fine. He Yawns.

It has been nine years since I adopted her.
She was like a daughter and that's for sure.
We were together for nearly seven years.
When I say that I loved her, I am sincere.
When I found her dead, I was horrified.
I felt pain when I learned that she died.
Losing such a wonderful dog is a disgrace.
She was one in a million and can't be replaced.

Five hundred nights we shared this room
You still crack the blinds to watch the moon

No dogs allowed has been long overruled
You always felt that was just a bit cruel

Despite the hair, dirt, and drool
You welcome the new fur family rule

No more fussing with my sloppy side
Now you tidy the sheets in half the time

The center of the mattress is just as fine
Though you still refuse to cross that line

You still sleep on your side of the bed
Yet, Five hundred nights since I've been dead

When I adopted you in 2013, Chihuahua dogs quickly became my favorite breed.
You died seven hundred and thirty days ago and it hurt, it hurt very much indeed.
I named you after a very special woman who was my mother.
When it comes to having a dog that's as terrific as you, there can never be another.
I knew you would eventually die but I didn't know that your death would be so near.
Your death occurred twenty-four months ago today, you've been dead for two years.
You were my dog and the love I felt for you can't be measured.
Pets don't live forever, while they live, they should be treasured.
Every pet owner will eventually have to face the pain that I experienced on that dreadful night.
You were like a daughter to me and the thought of losing a pet sure does cause a lot of fright.
I see dogs being sold for over three grand at a pet store in the mall.
But they aren't as special as you were because you were my baby doll.

You love me even when you're hungry and thirsty.
I love you when you're full.
You love me even when the days I couldn't get you bathed, I love you after your bath.
You love me in my darkest days.
I love you on my brightest days.
You love me with all your heart, I loved you your whole life.
and I will miss you for the rest of mine.