“When I rise my breakfast is solitary, the black dog waits to share it, from breakfast to dinner he continues barking...” ― Samuel Johnson Didn't take too long 'fore I found out What people mean by down and out —Black Dog, Led Zeppelin I have a friend who sees each morning as wonder and joy a fresh start a blank slate another chance I envy her Lately I have tried channeling this concept I wake up and I say (out loud) “FRESH START!” Fake it til you make it, baby, and all that But I have always been a terrible faker Here is the truth of most every day: I wake up without an alarm alarmed nonetheless to two black dogs one in my head the other in my face Each dog has its own routine unwavering The Black Dog in my head is all, like, “Oh Chris almighty not this again. What is the goddamned point?” Then the other Black Dog the one in my face (Called—aptly— Mercy) starts in with her wordless retort all big pink tongue and tangled limbs conveying quite clearly “Holy shit! This again! Can you believe it? Can you believe it? Can you can you can you? OH MY GOD WE’RE ALIVE LET’S PLAY!!” Once very long ago I visited a convent where a handful of ancient nuns kept mini horses and prayed aloud in the afternoon I sat in the chapel and listened to their call and response call and response My two Black Dogs stare each other down in The Chapel called Morning (The Chapel called Mourning) Barking back and forth back and forth Unlike the nuns There is no harmony This is a duel The Black Dog in my head is very old— as old as me so, like four hundred and twenty seven in dog years Really, at this point she should be curled up, arthritic unmoving and silent save for slow deep snoring on the worn out old rag rug of my heart But she is feisty still digs in dead weight very nearly unbudgeable irritated with the clumsy puppy that is galloping round the mattress not seeing but sensing the glum one inside licking my face like it’s a Tootsie Pop Like she will get to the center and she will aim her sparkly puppy dog eyes into the old one’s anxious eyes and she will convince her sad elder to “COME OUTSIDE AND PLAY!” This battle rages daily it is a deadlock it is my dread lock I am stuck here in my crate of anxiety As the Black Dog inside my head pushes her nose beneath the couch of despair and emerges with a list (much gnawed upon) of this past week’s sins a slobber stained page of all the errors I’ve made the wrongs I’ve done the latest reasons I am (still) Going to Hell The Black Dog in my face has me pinned eighty-one pounds of HELL YEAH! WE’RE ALIVE! And GET UP GET UP GET UP As she wags her entire butt I try to move my legs Get my feet on the floor The Black Dog inside my head says “Not so fast We haven’t yet revisited Your past crimes— Remember that time in 1973…” Butt Butt Butt! goes the Black Dog in my face interrupting the litany of my countless trespasses her windshield wiper tail whipping back and forth wiping it all away “Mercy!” I cry By which I mean both the puppy and LORD HELP ME (though in truth I do not trust in god I only trust in dog) At last The Black Dog in my face wears down the old bitch in my head Dam Mercy Dam Mercy Call Response Call Response How I hate the mornings Mercy! I cry (I cry for mercy) I get up at last I need to walk these dogs
For fun I recorded myself reading the poem with PoPo audibly snoring in the background.
JOY & BEAUTY DEPARTMENT









THE LAWN MOWER REPORT


Well someone put too much oil in the push mower and now someone has to teach herself how to change a spark plug. Fortunately, someone also has a rider mower so she got to mow anyway.
NOTES
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PUBLIC READING
On Wednesday August 6 at 7 pm, I am hosting a reading at Hyde Park Theatre featuring several members of my various workshops. Hoping to turn this into an ongoing series. To avoid ridiculous fees charged by various ticket platforms, I am selling tickets directly. Please email me: spikegillespie@gmail.com to get your tickets. $10 each. It’s a small room so it will sell out. Don’t wait!
Great thoughts & loved hearing you read them. Makes me think of people & their dawgs & how much we love them.
Sad times here in Kerrville…all the beautiful dogs & cats now gone~of course the people too, but the pets make me breakdown, I don’t know why. Kerrville Pets Alive share every day those found alive or those that have flown over the rainbow bridge. My Black Dawg, Lennon Blue & I, are safe & sound, not too close to the river banks~thank Gawd.
I’m sorry for butting in to your stack with this, I just needed to write this down, so I can try to keep moving
LOVED this poem, thank you for writing it and sharing it. The phrase "My crate of anxiety" is going to stay with me...