To Thine Own Self Be Zoo


Volume 1
Issue 1
-Issue 2-
Issue 3
Issue 4
Issue 5
Issue 6
Issue 7
Issue 8
Issue 9
Issue 10
Issue 11
Issue 12
Issue α

Volume 2
Issue 1
Issue β
Issue 2
Issue 3


Volume 1,
Issue 2



Scent Became Flesh

Dorian Gray

The Tale of Erskine Faern

Sister Shim and the Priestess Om

Poems





Poems




38 Haiku About Dogs

 
i
Summer: sniffing grass
Scent an unseen mystery
Winter: footprints shown
 
ii
The smell of dog feet
Beloved to more than pervs
It is transcendent
 
iii
Awakening warm
Happy, everything is good
Face in doggy fur
 
iv
Between desk and chair
Diligent companion's post
Head asleep on foot
 
v
New pleasure one night
Leaves much research to be done
With furred assistant
 
vi
Curious intent
A wagging tail is lifted
To sniff a dog's butt
 
vii
Human lies awake
Dog hops onto the bed too
Together they snore
 
viii
Green sprouts up from dirt
Esoteric dream from rest
Boyfriend from dog food
 
ix
Dog squats on the grass
Yesterday it was liquid
Glad to pick up shit
 
x
Crossroads on a walk
Dog insists on the long path
Dog lover obeys
 
xi
Dog lies smug on back
O ye of infinite chest
A belly is rubbed
 
xii
hghagh, auauau, oghhh
Interspecies sarcasm
Teasing words of love
 
xiii
Calm night in July
Suddenly exploding sky
Dogs justly displeased
 
xiv
A visitor knocks
Arrarrarrarrarrarrarr
Welcoming tail wags
 
xv
Dog spits out carrots
Empathy across species
Vegan cooks him steak
 
xvi
Under large blankets
Face buried in softest fur
Snuggling dog butts
 
xvii
Do you want some food?
Do you wanna mess around?
At last, tail says yes
 
xviii
Picture book on Danes
Repressed culture is revealed
Not one cookie shown
 
xix
Cross-species threesome
Film captures the friendship here
Dog smells sadly gone
 
xx
Dog relieves himself
Taste of yellow snow is learned
A worthy snow cone
 
xxi
Circle circle pause
Circle circle circle pause
Poop spot will be found
 
xxii
A pizza is watched
Six inch line of drool hangs
Slobber looks tasty
 
xxiii
Small vanilla cone
One soft taco, only meat
Sharing human's fries
 
xxiv
Human mad at screen
Dog asks human to drop it
Dog is right; they walk
 
xxv
Human walks with dog
Something in the dark woods stirs
All freeze and listen
 
xxvi
Dead thing found on road
Human sees it, but too late
Dog wins this time: munch.
 
xxvii
Human flops around
Inebriated kisses
Dog's tongue is the world
 
xxviii
Dog is up early
Grumpy human, needed, stirs
Pre-dawn sky serene
 
xxix
Walking down the hall
Dog puts nose to neighbor's door
Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. Okay
 
xxx
Juice, coffee, toothpaste
Sometimes dog kisses to kiss
Other times, to taste
 
xxxi
Anticipation
The tags are all taken off
New toy for the dog
 
xxxii
Mud rinsed down the drain
Dog leans into towel rubs
Dry and happy friend
 
xxxiii
Big dog passes gas
Non zoos roar about disgust
Zoo at first confused
 
xxxiv
Stomach makes noises
Salad of grass to puke out
Upset will settle
 
xxxv
Lickjob in mirror
All proportions stand naked
Contrast hides in rhyme
 
xxxvi
Hand on the sheath rubs
Hidden anatomy shown
Beautiful secret
 
xxxvii
At last the birds sing
The bright sun again does warm
Long walks can return
 
xxxviii
Trotting and halting
Dog teaches human patience
Do not yank the leash

 

 

Twilight Forest

There is, in the Land of Nod, a pleasant enough forest

where it is eternally twilight.

Warm, dim hues creep their fingers around the trees and across the grass.

Come: let us go there,

away from cars and concrete,

away from the faintly screeching electrical pulses of motherboards and gadgets,

away from screens,

away from bright lights and obligations to keep up with things to the second,

away from here, away from time, let us go away.

 

Out in the twilight forest, there is a presentness of being.

You press your hand to the tall trunk of a tree,

pushing your palm as hard or as soft as you like against the bark,

and the tree does not move, it does not break.

It is, and it will be, if you let it.

Lying on your belly and pressing your face to the ground, the grass smells like grass.

The dirt smells like dirt.

You spot a weed and pull it up, root and all, out from among the grass and dirt.

Holding the root to your face, soil pressing against your upper lip and your chin,

you inhale, and the soil smells even more of soil this close up to it.

Setting the weed down, you get up slowly onto your hands and knees,

and then get up farther, and stand fully upright.

Your breathing is not rushed here:

You take deep, helpful breaths as slowly as you like to.

 

You take a step, and in the bones of your foot,

your ankle, your knee, your thigh,

you feel the endearing weight of your body against the weight of the rest of the planet pushing back, holding you up: steadiness beyond steadiness, it will never, ever drop you.

As you walk, you wear a blanket over your shoulders like a cape.

Whatever else you wear, or don't wear, is up to you.

No one will mind here.

As you walk, you walk in whatever shape of being you would like to.

Maybe a dog, maybe a human, maybe an ant, maybe a rock, maybe a bush.

Maybe something in between.

You are what you like to be, male, or female, or some of both, or something of neither.

 

The air becomes pleasantly cooler as up ahead, there is a gently trickling stream which you are approaching.

It is felt and heard a while before it is seen.

When you arrive, it is as though arriving at the side of a tunnel.

This tunnel is made of the gentle stream at foot,

dim tree trunks to each side,

and a meshwork blanket of branches and leaves overhead,

through which you can see the sky.

From where, and to what end, does this tunnel lead?

You walk along on the bank of the gentle stream, seeking to know.

 

 

I Did Take Care Of Him After For The Record

The other day we had the air conditioning on

and so I missed

when my dog grunted and huffed

and rolled over

asking for a belly rub

but I did happen to turn around at some point

and see a gremlin on the bed

halfway between presenting his belly and lying down on his side again,

his limbs bunched up but also splayed,

his jowls shown,

his eyes wild

and staring directly at me

me

who had missed his belly rub demands

in the noise.

 

In that moment still, he was beautiful.









ζ


Most within To Thine Own Self Be Zoo written by Eggshell Ghosthearth.

This website contains works of literature, including narrative fiction, creative nonfiction, and poetry. Within this literature, any resemblances to any existing copyrighted materials, trademarks, or persons is completely coincidental, or is used for artistic purposes within the bounds of Public Domain, Fair Use, or Public Figure Status. Much of the literature on this site contains themes of sexuality, though is at no point intended to be pornographic. To Thine Own Self Be Zoo is a personal project and is not a for-profit endeavor.