birthday bean

/

110lbs of mush

On the bayside,

I found in your red 

grace and auburn eyes

your paws the size

of my palm .

your ears feather soft and

freckled chest maps 

the murmur of your 

heart .

the dimples of your 

rump, the two-tone nose

liver/black the  

black rim that circles your

eyes and surrounds your lips .

ears that fend for 

themselves that

tuck perk and greet 

friend or foe . 

your song and

dance

the moves and oh . . 

the moves . . . 

 

happy 3 Murphy Bean. thanks for all the inspiration, insomnia and love, whisker kisses, laughs, dance moves, songs and fat lips. not for sale. 

birds and bells

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secrets

we found a secret beach.  seven dollars to park is not a lot, but the chain-link gate was locked even though the sign said 'open.' place is closed on mondays, dumb luck – free parking. 

 

it rained and Murphy took off running for Nova and I ran in my flip flops to catch up. I took a few snapshots and we piled inside the van, the smell of wet dog - sour and appealing -and raindrops danced on Nova's tin roof. 

 

soon enough I told them, soon enough; and I drove us back into manhattan.