Black dog move, you’re in my way.
Why ain’t you tied to a tree?!
I ain’t got time for fret’n days,
so go on and leave me be.
Black dog baying like a fool.
Go find another soul to pest.
I wish you’d learn a better tune,
or give your whin’n jaws a rest.
Black dog please, I’m powerful gone!
I’m tired and get’n old.
You pull’n on me this strong
is a straw breaking load.
So go on, git, you ole hound,
find someone else to press!
I don’t want your ole hide ‘round,
sittin’ on my ole chest.
Conley Camera and Crosley radio shot with my Kodak Masterview 4x5 camera. The camera image is a glass plate and the radio is an alumitype.
Mirror, mirror on the table.
I crane my stem so I can see,
my lovely petals, soft as sable
is there beauty more than me?
Time torments me with its pace.
I sit and watch the clock.
I search about its evil face,
and listen to it tock.
The rhythmic noises that it makes
will put me into shock,
if slow the measure that it takes,
this tyrant boorish clock.
It is a game, much like a race.
My legs are giant rocks,
with every labored step erased,
I wish that it would stop.
Such is the tyrant, in thy place.
It keeps me in a lock
and shackles me as labored slaves,
pretending that it’s not.
So let me end this little tale,
like pigs it has a twist.
I’ve fallen off the ridged rail,
the train of which I’ve missed.