by Jeffrey Burghauser (April 2024)
![](https://www.newenglishreview.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/Capture.jpg)
Or let my lamp at midnight hour
Be seen in some high lonely tower…
…Where more is meant than meets the ear. —John Milton, Il Penseroso
Books are a load of crap. —Philip Larkin, A Study of Reading Habits
If you see Herb and Dorothy [Vogel] in action, they look. He comes in, and he points at the art like a hound. He’s like those dogs that dig underneath for truffles or the treasure they’re looking for. And his eyes become intense. —Lucio Pozzi, in Herb and Dorothy (2008), dir. Megumi Sasaki
I leash the dog. As thick, revolver-blue
___Steam numbly rises from behind a heap
Of rotting railroad ties, we wander through
___A frosted neighborhood that’s still asleep.
–
A dog experiences life through smell.
___The sundry scents they leave and those they sniff
Are like the letters that we use to spell:
___“Each turd must constitute a hieroglyph.”
–
His chestnut-colored face grows Saturnine
___As some appliance in his body plaits
The feces; arching his elastic spine,
___My canine squire calmly defecates.
–
If there’s another doggie in the group,
___A kindred temperament, it sniffs with bliss
And riveted attention as the poop
___Emerges from the pooper’s orifice.
–
The pooper’s poop—the sniffer’s stern Amen—
___The shared, conflicted ardor, half-berserk:
Where have I seen it? Ah! I’ve seen it when
___A poet shows another one his work.
–
And since I hate to see a poem wrecked
___(Regardless if it be upon the ground
Or on a notebook page), I don’t collect
___His crap—at least when nobody’s around.
–
And if I fear a doorbell cam is primed
___For digital surveillance of the spot,
I’ll briefly bend my body in a mimed
___Facsimile of Doing-What-I-Ought.
–
Where churches worship in a major key
___And an un-soil-able vinyl fence
Surrounds most yards, my insolence must be
___The closest thing there is to Decadence.
–
My dog is also decadent (…that mad
___Intelligence distinguishing the mood
Those eyes disclose!), but never at the sad
___Expense of scholarly exactitude.
–
Engaging nose, along with tongue & ears,
___The dog’s attentions passionately grip
The cultivated verses of his peers
___And those of his own able authorship.
–
Whenever crossing grass, his head is bent
___As if he’s following a piece of prose;
But when he crosses blacktop or cement,
___He lifts his suddenly-inactive nose.
–
Is pavement blank?—no more so than the doors
___And corkboard-covered walls (“Sign Up for Free
Assistance With…”; “Do You Love Dinosaurs?”)
___Of our local Public Library,
–
Attired in those printed symbols that
___My very literacy overlooks,
Reducing all the letters to a flat
___Design I pass enroute to Proper Books.
–
“Or let my lamp at midnight,” Milton wrote,
___“Be seen in some high, lonely tower,” caught
Within the sympathy of that remote,
___Momentous coziness of Higher Thought,
–
A sphere of ivory, a bourbon rose,
___Whose atmosphere becalms, inviting us
“Where more is meant than meets the ear.” Or nose.
___The Midnight Oil is conspicuous.
–
My giddy dog is a professor: his
___Condition indicates a dire split,
An ultimatum: either feces is
___Poetical, or poetry is shit.
Table of Contents
Jeffrey Burghauser is a teacher in Columbus, Ohio. He was educated at SUNY-Buffalo and the University of Leeds. He currently studies the five-string banjo with a focus on pre-WWII picking styles. A former artist-in-residence at the Arad Arts Project (Israel), his poems have appeared (or are forthcoming) in Appalachian Journal, Fearsome Critters, Iceview, Lehrhaus, and New English Review. Jeffrey’s book-length collections are available on Amazon, and his website is www.jeffreyburghauser.com.
Follow NER on Twitter @NERIconoclast
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3 Responses
“Vanity is a mark of humility rather than of pride.”—Swift
A fine analogy!
But isn’t it fair to say
That though all crap may be doggie poetry
Not all poetry is crap?
Some few enjoy producing it,
Most couldn’t give a ****!
Your unleashed humor is very good. Fine poem.
Well done.
I sniffed with bliss!