the dog has been
barking nonstop for
two hours now
enough to drive away
the sparrows
there is no one
in the causeway
nothing to agitate
the little monster
yet as i sit solemnly
it barks and barks and barks

sunday mornings are best
spent with coffee
ryo playing softly
the wind and the planes
providing a backbeat
to sorting thoughts
unpackaging the week dead
preparing for the week to come
a mediation on meditating
finding some dry land
and hoping to navigate
another passage of hell

but that goddamned dog
has other plans
so i break with tradition
and turn on something
with fuzzy gutairs
loud enough to drown out
the screeching barks
to deaden the thoughts
gone sour with the sun
as sylvia whispers beauty
to fill my hollow skull
and love leaks from my
caffeinated heart spasms
to coalesce in the wildflowers
a bit more frantic
than i would prefer but
all we can do is really
all we can do and that has
to be enough to get us through
despite the best laid plans
of fools and poets