Okay, okay, Slippy is Probably in Love

 

I don't know if I know what to say sometimes I lie here in the grass with the sun pulsing like MR's hands petting me smoothing my fur down pressing her hands against my heart it races in the heat instead of being languid which means slow as in under water maybe and it's what warm hearts are supposed to do slow down but instead mine moves faster maybe at the speed of electromagnetic rays maybe ultraviolet which is also a color perhaps the colors inside my dreams filling my lungs with heat and the smell of grass.

Sometimes I read Sappho I like the book Sappho: Poems and Fragments translated by Stanley Lombardo and all the Sappho poems I talk about for this bloggy thingy today are from that book which is a beautiful book to make you cry if you like that I think you should read it.

Because I love the smell of grass and the feel of warm warm warm and even if I am here alone Outside lying down and even if I'm alone here sometimes with no one to talk to not even Lucy and even if no one ever wants to talk to me again still my heart will be racing at the heat of everything trying to burrow down into the dirt get closer to magma-hot beneath all-everything you want to come over some time and hang out with me? I can tell you what I think about things and you can tell me what you think about things too if you want to but not if you don't I don't want to be a bully like Luco is I want to be a nice dog not a mean dog if you know how mean a dog can be you should know I don't want to be that.

Listen. Have you met the Scarecrow Lucy the dog? If you did meet her you'd wonder how you could never have not met her before which is more than a double negative but I don't care about that I try to care about grammar but grammar is so tedious which means like when I have to sit and wait for MR to throw me a treat and she takes forever to do it! All I want is more more more meat in my mouth!

But Lucy the Scarecrow has black eyes that are also golden and they are warm and they are sweet. Her eyes are like burning constellations which is maybe why the heat races my heart like a crazy whirlwind jet engine I wish I could live inside of them and just sleep sleep with her all-every around me cradling soft she is usually close by to me but I think never quite close enough.

I said it before but it's what I mean I want to clamber into her body and live there there is close to her but never close enough there is talking to her but never talking enough there is telling her she is beautiful but I never say it enough or correctly or exactly how I mean to want to need to.

She is elysian fields. I've been reading Sappho and she is every-all-any Sappho ever wrote about:

I do not expect my fingers

to graze the sky

What would the rest of that fragment read probably something like but when I look at you Lucy clouds stick to my fingers spiderwebs.

And Sappho also writes this fragment it is for Lucy it must be for Lucy for my Scarecrow the Scarecrow of my heart:

and I long and yearn

These fragments make me sad they are so small and incomplete and but they also reach what I want to say to her the heat welling in my heart and spilling over for her for her for her pooling at my feet even hotter probably than the magma I dig for in the earth's liquid center.

 Eros has shaken my mind,

wind sweeping down the mountain on oaks

Oh Sappho of ancient Greece oh Sappho of so many years before I came to be how is it you clearly know my truest my sincerest my longingest longings for the doggy of my dreams who when I dream I always dream of Lucy Lucy and who when I close my eyes it's her eyes I see shining in the dark golden beacon and who I make myself a fool for loving who I never loved so much before and her delicate bones I search her body for answers already embedded there her genes must match mine line up like algebra. 

earth embroidered with flowers

When I see my Lucy Lu when I fall down hot onto the grass and roll swimming in sunshine.

Eros once more limbslackener makes me shudder

sweetbitter irresistble creeping

Oh Lucy Lucy who echoes in my heart in my skeleton who is electricity who is molecules and particles who is atoms and clouds and who is the atmosphere and every fizzing thing Lucy who is my Scarecrow who keeps nightmares from me who sleeps me gentle who I love and love is not enough of a word for my stumbling tongue who is my fire is my truth is my every.

fairest of stars

Oh that dog of mine.