Dog

The following is a poem from a collection entitled Ghosts, which I hand-bound and letterpress printed at the Wells College Book Arts Center in Aurora, New York. If you like this, you might want to check out Squire and Bridge.

Dog
If you wish to commit a sin,
be sure you are not near
that old hall they call MacMillan;
you just might die of fear.

You’d think the portrait of a dog
would not have much to do.
That’s why your heart croaks like a frog
when his eyes follow you.

He senses all in the building,
and at the scent of lust,
he clambers from his own painting;
his paws disturb the dust.

He walks on floors. He walks on walls.
He walks on ceilings, too,
and from his jowls often falls
an ectoplasmic goo.

It doesn’t matter to the hound
if you’re alone or not;
any lovers will be found
and murdered on the spot.

He waits until the count of three,
then growls behind your back,
and when you turn around to see,
you have a heart attack!

If you wish to commit a sin,
be sure you are not near
that old hall they call MacMillan;
you just might die of fear.

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About CobraQuiz

A political writer.
This entry was posted in Book Art, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Dog

  1. Pingback: Squire | Chess Games with Gorillas

  2. Pingback: Bridge | Chess Games with Gorillas

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