Dogs at Poetry Rock - Jan. 16, 2021

Gary Hunter

no smelly yellow stains yet

perhaps my words are odorless

their breath just stale wind

useless targets for dogs

to mark with precious urine

and admit they stopped at

this particular boulder

or maybe their masters

stand paper in hand

click their tongues

let out tiny puffs of air

mutter strange things

leaving the furry ones

to look around and see

what they might be missing

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