The Attic of Hours
A Day with Our Beagle, the Bruegger Meister Introduction Bruegger was our first beagle, a companion who never asked much from us except to be near. This poem remembers the quiet work we shared one long afternoon - how his presence turned
Kahu
Before the first bark split the quiet, before small paws stitched themselves into the rhythm of the house, I didn’t know what I was becoming, only that something in me kept listening toward the door. They called it Kahu. I didn’t ask what it meant. Then Bruegger arrived, all noise and momentum, ears too big for his head, feet that never seemed to land in the same place twice. He didn’t enter the house, he broke into it. Skidded across floors, claimed corners, dragged the outside in with him; mud, leaves, whatever the world offered. My ch…
Three Poems of Morning Theology
A Linus-Monster Triptych (from The House on Boulevard and Street) Preface Every morning, a sermon of paws and play.
