Woof!
March 6, 2021 1:39 PM Subscribe
Dog. A poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti. "The dog trots freely in the street/
and sees reality/ and the things he sees/
are bigger than himself/
and the things he sees/
are his reality./
Also, I think Doyle was Ferlinghetti's rep (that is, he represented San Francisco). Or if he didn't, he was one of the neighboring districts. The problem is, Wikipedia uses district numbers, and the borders change wildly over time. I could find only one map of the districts in the 1950s, and the district numbers don't match with other sources. I also found an NYT obit which highlight Doyle's "anti-Red" activities.
posted by zompist at 2:16 PM on March 6, 2021
posted by zompist at 2:16 PM on March 6, 2021
OMG, I found out just now after posting this that Ferlinghetti died last month.
posted by storybored at 2:23 PM on March 6, 2021 [1 favorite]
posted by storybored at 2:23 PM on March 6, 2021 [1 favorite]
This is great timing for me...I literally just finished writing a poem with that style of picture-with-words-writing... First time I really tried it seriously, and I liked the result.
I love how "Dog" breaks into it partway through.
posted by Flight Hardware, do not touch at 3:34 PM on March 6, 2021
I love how "Dog" breaks into it partway through.
posted by Flight Hardware, do not touch at 3:34 PM on March 6, 2021
Jazz pianist and singer Bob Dorough made the classic recording of this, my favorite poem. Can be heard on youtube. Don't miss. "Chickens in Chinatown Windows with there heads a block away."
posted by charlesminus at 3:55 PM on March 6, 2021 [1 favorite]
posted by charlesminus at 3:55 PM on March 6, 2021 [1 favorite]
I love poems about dogs, and so many poets have written them. This is Alone, by Jack Gilbert.
I never thought Michiko would come back
after she died. But if she did, I knew
it would be as a lady in a long white dress.
It is strange that she has returned
as somebody's dalmatian. I meet
the man walking her on a leash
almost every week. He says good morning
and I stoop down to calm her. He said
once that she was never like that with
other people. Sometimes she is tethered
on their lawn when I go by. If nobody
is around, I sit on the grass. When she
finally quiets, she puts her head in my lap
and we watch each other's eyes as I whisper
in her soft ears. She cares nothing about
the mystery. She likes it best when
I touch her head and tell her small
things about my days and our friends.
That makes her happy the way it always did.
posted by Orlop at 4:32 PM on March 6, 2021 [7 favorites]
I never thought Michiko would come back
after she died. But if she did, I knew
it would be as a lady in a long white dress.
It is strange that she has returned
as somebody's dalmatian. I meet
the man walking her on a leash
almost every week. He says good morning
and I stoop down to calm her. He said
once that she was never like that with
other people. Sometimes she is tethered
on their lawn when I go by. If nobody
is around, I sit on the grass. When she
finally quiets, she puts her head in my lap
and we watch each other's eyes as I whisper
in her soft ears. She cares nothing about
the mystery. She likes it best when
I touch her head and tell her small
things about my days and our friends.
That makes her happy the way it always did.
posted by Orlop at 4:32 PM on March 6, 2021 [7 favorites]
I came across Dog in Seriously Funny - Poems about Love, Death, Religion, Art, Politics, Sex and Everything Else.
where you will also find on the same subject:
Dharma - by Billy Collins.
The way the dog trots out the front door
every morning
without a hat or an umbrella,
without any money
or the keys to her doghouse
never fails to fill the saucer of my heart
with milky admiration.
Who provides a finer example
of a life without encumbrance—
Thoreau in his curtainless hut
with a single plate, a single spoon?
Gandhi with his staff and his holy diapers?
Off she goes into the material world
with nothing but her brown coat
and her modest blue collar,
following only her wet nose,
the twin portals of her steady breathing,
followed only by the plume of her tail.
If only she did not shove the cat aside
every morning
and eat all his food
what a model of self-containment she
would be,
what a paragon of earthly detachment.
If only she were not so eager
for a rub behind the ears,
so acrobatic in her welcomes,
if only I were not her god.
posted by storybored at 6:49 PM on March 6, 2021 [3 favorites]
where you will also find on the same subject:
Dharma - by Billy Collins.
The way the dog trots out the front door
every morning
without a hat or an umbrella,
without any money
or the keys to her doghouse
never fails to fill the saucer of my heart
with milky admiration.
Who provides a finer example
of a life without encumbrance—
Thoreau in his curtainless hut
with a single plate, a single spoon?
Gandhi with his staff and his holy diapers?
Off she goes into the material world
with nothing but her brown coat
and her modest blue collar,
following only her wet nose,
the twin portals of her steady breathing,
followed only by the plume of her tail.
If only she did not shove the cat aside
every morning
and eat all his food
what a model of self-containment she
would be,
what a paragon of earthly detachment.
If only she were not so eager
for a rub behind the ears,
so acrobatic in her welcomes,
if only I were not her god.
posted by storybored at 6:49 PM on March 6, 2021 [3 favorites]
with a real tale to tellBeautiful!
and a real tail to tell it with
posted by The Underpants Monster at 7:35 PM on March 6, 2021 [2 favorites]
Ferlinghetti died last month.
Yes, here's the previously. He was a great.
posted by Ashwagandha at 8:53 PM on March 6, 2021 [2 favorites]
Yes, here's the previously. He was a great.
posted by Ashwagandha at 8:53 PM on March 6, 2021 [2 favorites]
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posted by zompist at 1:49 PM on March 6, 2021 [6 favorites]