Flying dogs
July 21, 2010
Do dogs dream of flying?
The paws scrabbling during dreams,
the muffled barks, wrapped in cloud;
could it be they chase sparrows
up beyond tight leash of earth?
How far do their brains stretch,
those companions of smooth aliens,
those interpreters of foreign voice?
They know to find meaty meaning
in nonsensical noise we make,
the complicated sound droppings
we float into blank noseless air.
Why then could dog not look beyond
and dream of wings, of slipped collar
soaring? Little Pegasus of wag,
small brown scented eagle;
scratching blue in basket bliss.
Rainbow of smells is beckoning.
P.S. Cottier
For those who seek perfection
July 18, 2010
Princess of Blogs
Each night she updated; edited pending comments,
entered scripture of text with exclamatory glee.
In her room she lived quiet, but energetically,
lap-top dancing, fingers quick clicking castanets.
Her pictures were immaculate, draped over chairs,
or hanging with her coterie, smiles like lesser stars.
Reshaping her target, tags and links in side-bars,
she monitored daily hits, archer of loaded air.
And when the virus came, a little worm of strife,
that annoying addition that is always so hungry,
(for it must eat each Apple core or sturdy square PC)
she froze as well; still as Lot’s eye-assaulted wife.
She stared at the locked screen, immobile and blank-eyed,
then wept for the eve that her perfect blog just died.
P.S. Cottier
