Neon nightmare dog frightening a child’s dream
Each curly golden hair aflame with water drops prisming the sun
Coyote jaws salivating raw fluids wetting lips held in grimace face
Smiling on my small life. I am alive. I am alive. How long has it been?
You appear now as if we are friends old man, for man dog you are
Holding all life’s genders in your jaws, all our unpaid bills
Your karmic pinball game has kept me lean with a taste for wine
Too often a static cliche′ tumbling through icons of improbable possibilities
Show your real face and prove me wrong
There are no mirrors in this dark place. No broken glass. Only song.
Another “form” to tackle. This time an Epistle. I decided to wing it. See what came up through the pipeline without placing “form” anywhere near it accept while writing it down. I woke up this morning and there it was. This is the first draft. The nightmare was real and one I remember having around 3 years old that has stayed with me visually. Made me wary of dogs for years until my father told me dogs need to hold their mouths open to breath. Perhaps they drool. When I was looking for who to write an epistle to, the face of this nightmare coyote showed up. It was thrilling physically to address this nightmare face and I thoroughly enjoyed writing this. I am going to start thinking of writing forms as a “form tango” and learn to hold my own.
Artist: Doug Lawler