This dog is a reincarnation of a reincarnation
of Allen Ginsberg because he’s mystical
and gives me queer looks.
He loves to smell piss and shit, and he’s beautiful
and black and white and if dogs were poets he’d be
the masterful, subversive beta-male.
Ginsberg stares at me thru big brown eyes while wagging
his tail, thinking about absolution.
Now he’s licking his penis and grunting.
Now a cat is sitting on my lap staring at the wall,
since he’s a reincarnation of a reincarnation
of William S. Burroughs, he’s crying on the inside
about murder, but not really feeling guilty. The animals have seen
it all before, but not for forever.