‘The flight response is when we
believe that if we are able to escape
the threat and avoid conflict, then we will not be harmed’
Guttural in the sound
The way the ‘o’ fills it up. The air.
Singing out a harsh fatality of an ending of a word.
Almost too large in the mouth.
I gnaw on the ends of my pen,
Hoping it will come back.
Dog on dog leg. Dog eat dog eat dog eat.
Teeth garnished with soot.
Unholy is the mirror —
Three inch rules means there is a smoke bomb.
Be wary of yourself. Polish after exfoliating.
Gargle salt water to heal an abscessed tooth.
Stray Dogs on this side of the street do not can not
Understand what ‘stay’ means.
Teach me with the thing in which the sound the vowels come out of. Before that though,
Go somewhere, do not come back until
The dogs have claimed you,
Decidedly. come back when your blood is
in your matted fur coat
Lonesome again, there’s that ‘o’ sound but
not long, like in god and songs and mom and psalm
Mimicking the way I’ve calmed the stray dogs
In their militia of being
O there you are, O! Foxhound,
Safe and sound, moon alabaster round.
Howling at the camino’s rust colored sound,
Familiar, alley tomcats, Screaming, aroused.
Smoke signals, it blows halfway ‘round the block,
Takes a few seconds, I reckon. Spit on the ground.
the threat and avoid conflict, then we will not be harmed’
Guttural in the sound
The way the ‘o’ fills it up. The air.
Singing out a harsh fatality of an ending of a word.
Almost too large in the mouth.
I gnaw on the ends of my pen,
Hoping it will come back.
Dog on dog leg. Dog eat dog eat dog eat.
Teeth garnished with soot.
Unholy is the mirror —
Three inch rules means there is a smoke bomb.
Be wary of yourself. Polish after exfoliating.
Gargle salt water to heal an abscessed tooth.
Stray Dogs on this side of the street do not can not
Understand what ‘stay’ means.
Teach me with the thing in which the sound the vowels come out of. Before that though,
Go somewhere, do not come back until
The dogs have claimed you,
Decidedly. come back when your blood is
in your matted fur coat
Lonesome again, there’s that ‘o’ sound but
not long, like in god and songs and mom and psalm
Mimicking the way I’ve calmed the stray dogs
In their militia of being
O there you are, O! Foxhound,
Safe and sound, moon alabaster round.
Howling at the camino’s rust colored sound,
Familiar, alley tomcats, Screaming, aroused.
Smoke signals, it blows halfway ‘round the block,
Takes a few seconds, I reckon. Spit on the ground.