Friday, January 1, 2010

Auld Lang Syne


I haven’t been this drunk
in a long time,

said the poet
to his dog

who had
died

years
ago.

But the story really begins when daylight licks his face.

(first publication)


Recently Linked: A new year’s greeting to nmo kur, who signed on as a follower of this blog yesterday morning, shortly after I’d posted the day’s entry. Welcome!

Thanks also to Annie Wyndham for her kind mention of yesterday’s post in her “Burnt Toast” entry at Jottings of an AmeriQuebeckian.

Updates:
“Auld Lang Syne” added to Poems, Slightly Used.

12 comments:

Caio Fernandes said...

the dog is always there . as the daylight liks .


HAPPY 2010 !!

William Michaelian said...

Caio, you rascal — what pleasure your artwork brings, the great self-portraits, the wise and beautiful dogs, who have the same good sense of humor as their master.

Thanks, and Happy New Year.

Joseph Hutchison said...

This puts me in mind of our poor old Dalmatian named Dizzy (after Gillespie), who has epilepsy:

  the dog's seizure past

  he wanders the rooms more lost

  being lost at home

William Michaelian said...

Ah. Very nice. Not unlike a poet after he’s been delivered of his poem...

Joseph Hutchison said...

Yes! And the "pre-ictal" state is similar to the feelings (mine, at least) before the seizure arrives: a moody agitation alternating with a kind of unfocused drift, almost a lethargy. The seizure, at least for Dizzy, emerges from the lethargy--almost always when he's sleeping. Poetry, at least for me, emerges from the moody agitation; the drift comes after, the lethargy even later on, when I reread the poem a few days later and see how bad it is and start to wonder if there's anything I can do with it. Move this word maybe, maybe break this line here not there, etc. Portrait of the Artist as an Old Dog!

William Michaelian said...

But still with the strength to chase his tail. But you could be right — maybe poetry is a disorder. Oh, well. I think I’ll settle in a chew my knuckles for awhile.

Joseph Hutchison said...

I recommend chewing the fingernails instead. They grow back purty good.

Elisabeth said...

Oh our dreams are so much better than our wakefulness, especially when dogs long lost come back to us. I love the last line, when daylight licks his face. I suppose that's when reality kicks in.

William Michaelian said...

Reality? What a concept! But I suppose it has its place....

Brent said...

I had just read Burns' Auld Lang Syng when you published this, and I really love the way you play on the image of old friends and sharing a drink. Timely and pleasing.

William Michaelian said...

Thanks, Brent. Speaking of Burns, you might be interested in this glossary page on my main website.

Brent said...

Some very fine lexigraphy, pleasant to peruse. It will come in very handy when I start reading Burns. Thank you.