Monday, August 14, 2017

dog park poems.

yesterday, my traveling poetry class practiced dog park poems in birdsboro at the the danielle ruiz-murphy center for animal welfare and dog park

some notable moments not captured on camera involved one dog humping another dog's face (strangely tolerated by the muscular, semi-large dog taking that hit) and lots of mud water-drinking despite fresh bowls of recently poured clean water sitting a few feet away. oofh.

here is one poem from the day, along with a winter-reminding eye-scene.

By Sam Traten

Chipped, spayed and neutered, we’re at the dog park
today. Parts added, parts taken away. Notably missing is
Forgiveness. Hold on, partner, don’t take that the wrong
way. Here’s the thing:

Our relationship, eons old, dog and person, has discovered
how to bypass the whole you wronged me, I forgive you
you humans, among yourselves, play roughhouse. I, your dog, even
left alone, waiting for you to come home, pour kibble, take a bathroom-break

walk, stroke fur, nuzzle face and ears, romp and fetch –
never bothered to learn forgive and forget. No need, it’s
built in. Today, now and forever, I am happy
to see you. I care for you, you are my sunshine,

my beginning and my end. I’ll leap and spin at your
arrival, crouch the downward dog, look lovingly
in your eyes, doggy-smile at your attention, your approval.

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