YOWL
I saw the beast minds of my generation yip yelp yawl
Starving frenzied fur matted with mud
Dragging themselves through LA streets at dawn
Looking for a hotblooded fix while
Pedigreed Labradoodles heavy-lidded in bon bone paradise
Lay curled on embroidered pillows in the flatscreen glow.
Coyote freaks baring their tender throats to yellow fluorescent lamps,
Heads thrown back to swallow the sky, snouts yearning
To be buried cheek-deep in crimson supernatural life-force—
Floating above the clipped lawns of Griffith Park,
Shapeshifting angels contemplating beauty, golf, and
the wild flowers near the Gene Autry Museum.
With apologies to dog owners, to my own cat who became one such feast, and to the great Ginsberg.
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Oh, and Happy Valentine’s Day.
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