It is a big, brown dog at the end of a leash.
He pulls his owner off the sidewalk and
onto a patch of grass where the canine
digs into the earth sniffing an ecstasy
no human will ever know.
Something there is so strong, he drags his "master"
through clumps of dandelion and nettles
to satisfy his four-legged passion.

There is a philosopher at the end of his logical leash.
He pushes in and through thorny patches of dilemmas
dragging his idea of afterlife, eternity and God
in the wake of his perceived self-importance, irrefutable logic
and completely, emotional subjectivity.
This is something only poets understand
and it drives them mad.

There is a dyslexic dog listening to a poem about dogs and philosophers.
He is wagging his tail, straining at his bonds, trying desperately
to take the poem into his mouth and savor its flavor.
It all smells deliciously like what it is...
bullshit.
Oh, yes - the prose of doggie dreams.

09/01/2012

Author's Note: Woof!

Posted on 09/01/2012
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