Mongrel Angel

 

A mongrel angel in the dark

who wakes the dogs who start to bark

beneath the yellow windows in the rain

she knows the words and hums the tune

for lonely rabbits on the moon

who wear their pestles on a silver chain

A mongrel angel high at noon

comes uninvited to the room

where holy flunkies serve the business crowd

she knows where all the blossoms bloom

in graveyards where they dust their broom

and common kind is simply not allowed

And the mongrel angel lives halfway from Heaven on her own

like a fish out of the water or a turtle on a stone

A mongrel angel's setting sun

is just like any other one

but dialect of night's a special rhyme

that only dogs and she can hear

a melody of atmosphere

that leaves her breathless every single time

And the mongrel angel lives halfway from Heaven on her own

like a fish out of the water or a turtle on a stone

_____________

for Word Garden Word List--Cat's Cradle

The Mountains Have Heavy Hearts

 

The mountains have heavy hearts.

The earth, like a fussing grandmother,

feeds them altitude

and early light.

Inside each house

is a beautiful girl, waiting.

Beneath each house

the earth understands what waiting really means.

My hands are like broken hinges

on a door warped from rain.

In my mind, grandmothers and mountains.

In my heart, my love, rushing. 

I have cared for a woman, perhaps.

I have cherished a dog for years.

He drowses to the touch of my big useless hand

on his back like a happy burden.

________

for The Sunday Muse #173, where I am hosting.

the art is "Self Portrait With Accordion" by Guido Vedovato

Dogs

There are dogs who carry Winter in their mouths
and when they smile, it is your smile
with teeth as white as pitcher-cream.

Like you, the dogs do not speak
because what they want cannot be put in words.
With eyes like November noon-dusk,
they radiate need and knock my heart over
low enough to be carried off and cached.

In frost-dark, I am the Moon,
and the dogs are rings around me.
We howl at every kindness because we know
it isn't freeze that makes us flinch, but thaw. 

Like the dogs, I carry Winter in my mouth,
and when I smile, it is your smile
like a collar around my tongue
from a Master who wanted me
silent, but devoted, and other such prideful notions.
______ 

In Age

In age, I dreamt myself a child again--
a blown leaf, my parents the wind.

Alone, I dreamt of family again--
my son a child, I rose and fell from the west.

Adored by a dog, I dreamt of dogs--
alive again, and my heart was calm.

In sleep, I dreamt of youth--
desire and sweetness came down from the hills.

In morning, leaves tap the sill--
dog and I raise our heads to the early breeze.
_______

for Micro Poetry at Toads. "Fill the empty parts."

Tortoise Shell and Dog Brain

I see everything through
tortoise shell and dog brain--
it's all in an effort at honesty that I'm filling you in up front.

My cheaters might be rose-colored or dark as molasses--
you'll have to decide, based upon
my attitude, subtle cues, and giveaway pratfalls.

Okay, maybe I've been panting after you, like you think.
I'm more tortoise than hare,
so you'd better invite me by degrees after all, 
perhaps by post or 
smoke signals, because once startled I'm gone and it's a job to get me back.

So what d'you think? Never mind.
Ever since I turned seven hundred years old, I'm not as rash
as I used to be. 
Nonetheless, play your cards right and I could be
keen for your bed, hogging it,
living for nothing but to make you happy, Master, but still
prone to wander,
chase my tail,
and act stupid at the drop of a hat. 
______

by request.

X Factor

Don't fret, little one,
over what doctors or devils say.

They don't know how strong my angels rise
at sight of your 
careless
smile.
_____

for Play It Again Toads #13. I did a Twitter poem (140 characters.) 

The image was found on weheartit.com

My puppy has some internal problems. Mommy's gonna make it right.

 

 

At the Aviary

There is a woman screaming.
She snaps her compact shut and asks, "How did I get so fucking old?"

"Cry me a river," says GorgeousCrazyGirl.
She and the World's Most Brilliant Unemployable Violinist are sitting on some concrete steps at the bird park.

"My fingers hurt," complains the Violinist. She has arthritis in her joints.
"Quit bitching, darling," says her companion, serenely.

A peacock calls.
oh OHHH, oh OHHH.
His spread tail makes the Violinist think of a Japanese fan.

"I played Tokyo once. They loved me. I played them a program of Bach and Vivaldi."
GorgeousCrazyGirl says, "Are they the ones who bind their feet? 
How do they get to their seats? They must be like Weebles."

"You need treatment," says the Violinist, sitting hip to hip with her.
"Treat me, baby!"
They kiss. There is nothing wrong with the Violinist's lips.

The Violinist says, "When I was young, I didn't know there were lesbians."
"There weren't," replies GorgeousCrazyGirl, as calm and smooth as new snow. "There were just dinosaurs, and covered wagons and shit."
The Violinist smacks her on the shoulder, then says, "Ow" and inspects her hand.

It has been a long time since the World's Most Brilliant Unemployable Violinist was able to perform in a professional venue.
It has been almost as long since GorgeousCrazyGirl has been socked away in the bin, or gotten her pretty ass arrested.
They are arcs,
moving in opposite directions,
together. 

GorgeousCrazyGirl is wearing a ginormous cowgirl hat, a white tee shirt with a quote on the front, and cut off jeans. 
Her bare legs could stop an army in its tracks.

The Violinist is wearing dark glasses and a Burberry rain coat. She might be attending a funeral. 
"What do you think happens, when we die?" she asks her friend.
"Don't be morbid, honey, "advises The Girl, untroubled as a blue sky in May.

Once, The World's Most Brilliant Unemployable Violinist was reasonably famous, financially well off, and as lonely as the last Great Auk, if it lived on a precipice surrounded by a shark-infested moat.

Once, GorgeousCrazyGirl got her dinner out of dumpsters, and believed the wacky shit her head told her. She didn't have a nickel, or a clue, or command of her own mind. She knows what terror is.

There is Aleve, and Wellbutrin. 
At the bird park, most of the birds are paired off, making babies like Detroit once made Packards.
"They have wings. There's nothing to stop them flying away. Why don't they?" The Violinist is looking up, into the April sky, as if it were the steps to a stage.

"Maybe they like it here," suggests The Girl, as zen as a zebra in a hay factory. "Maybe they have everything they need."
"You really are awfully beautiful," says the Violinist, playing tenderly with The Girl's long black hair.
"That's the rumor," she says, wearily.
"No," the Violinist continues, "you would be beautiful in the dark. To a blind person. With no hands."

GorgeousCrazyGirl snorts loudly, then laughs, a sort musical braying. "You're crazy."
"So was Mozart." The Violinist looks quite young when she smiles.
Then, they are intertwining their fingers and saying nothing at all, 
and everything;
like rests and notes,
which, together make peacocks and people go oh OHH...
oh OHH.
______

Dedicated to Dana, wherever she is; the first charming crazy girl I fell in love with.

I bear this in common with The Girl: I frequently wear a ginormous old cowgirl hat.

Linked to Real Toads Open Link Monday.

This Face

take a good look at this face
cos pretty soon all you gonna see is my ass
swingin' on out of town.

i got brothers, uncles, male cousins here
like a truck brought 'em in and left 'em.
this is
(gruff voice)
their
patch
of grass.

take a good look at this face
cos it's the last face someone gonna see
before they meet my big bad appetite.
i run
i run
oh, i would run just because;
so if it brings back dinner,
ain't that sweet.

i got brothers, uncles, male cousins here
who haven't hunted in donkey's years.
they stay behind and mind the brats
like a pack of english nannies.
(scornful voice)
y'all can hush
eat my leavins
eat my dust.

take a good look at this face
cos i'm gone like the water when the sun rise high.
some lazy dog gonna meet this shinin'queen
and do just what i tell him, right down to a tee--
he just don't know it yet.
so get outta my way, and goodbye old pack,
hello new.

now i'll tell you what you're gonna do...
take a good look at this face.
_______

for Hannaballistic's Transforming Friday!

In African wild dog packs, it is the males who stay together, and the females who leave to find new packs. Usually, only one dominant female breeds, and the fights for this right can be savage and costly. These gals are no Country Club Cathys. They are tough, and wily, and I think they are very cool.

Don't forget, Coal Black & Poison Apple's new cd "Molly Macabre" will be available January 22nd exclusively at Pete's Dog-N-Suds on Highway 5!