Tuesday, February 23, 2016


Four dogs, four humans, four identical leashes, each of us sequestered to our respective corners in the square trailer,

A backdrop of ten stacked cages, each holding a dog--some must be empty?--that we can hear but cannot see [the whining is distracting, if not disconcerting. are the cages lined with something cutting the paws?] the metal grates covered with silver insulation that moms put in mini vans to deflect sunlight,


She is bulging out of her pink exercise-wear, trance ov jiggling, a stomach like an egg yolk falling gently into a bowl, she is commanding the dogs to assume the


I don't like dogs. Only mine.
But I will laugh at them.

 The dogs writhe in the pose--want to eat, they've become groveling people, I have stopped with instruction at the expense of "progress," drift out, flash of a boy I work to avoid now in this SPHINX DOWN position--I straddle his back, a girl I wanted to stop staring at in the mall because I wanted to undo the front of her jeans and make her stand still likeshewasn'trealwasn'talive and let me touch her like a slab of stone--now I see her in this SPHINX DOWN pose. Whip head to the left to shake this out, tense to question 'Am I a dom? I didn't know?'
Well it could be, but now, certainly, a bad student.

My dog will not lie down
I secretly admire the quiet defiance in her
supposed failure.
[my failure]

Admire the kind-of-royal resistance, she's not having any of my "attempted" dominance,
a glad submission to a mut.

Submission to objects.

Recurrent obsessions, reducing me to a collage of objectifications, passive--letting them own me all day long.

"I've always been like this."


"Sliding down she went; down, her hair swinging, her arms held out, and the dog stood there, rearing back, his forelegs slanting; his paws trembling under the trembling of his rump, his hackle standing; his mouth open, his tongue slung sideways over his sharp bright teeth; whining and waiting. And down she went, until her head swung against his; on all fours now, dragging her knees. The veins stood out in her neck, under her ears, swelled in her arms, and wide and throbbing rose up on her fingers as she moved forward.

The dog, quivering in every muscle, sprang back, his tongue a stiff curving terror in his mouth; moved backward, back, as she came on, whimpering too, coming forward, her head turned completely sideways, grinning and whimpering. Backed into the farthest corner, the dog reared as if to avoid something that troubled him to such agony that he seemed to be rising from the floor; then he stopped, clawing sideways at the wall, his forepaws lifted and sliding. Then head down, dragging her forelocks in the dust, she struck against his side. He let loose one howl of misery and bit at her, dashing about her, barking, and as he sprang on either side of her he always kept his head toward her, dashing his rump now this side, now that, of the wall.

Then she began to bark also, crawling after him--barking in a fit of laughter, obscene and touching. The dog began to cry then, running with her, head-on with her head, as if to circumvent her; soft and slow down in his throat crying, and she grinning and crying with him; crying in shorter and shorter spaces, moving head to head, until she gave up, lying out, her hands beside her, her face turned and weeping; and the dog too gave up then, and lay down, his eyes bloodshot, his head flat along her knees."


Anonymous said...

"then ... with her ... crying with him .... the dog too ... flat along her knees"

with your's : "I have stopped with instruction at the expense of 'progress'"

"progress" and "always" i've been told to sidestep (moving towards a scary opposite, which has always been self inflicted, oppression) i keep wondering about voyeurism about sitting in a sunken couch, across from someone in a chair, a throne really.

arms of leather draped with a subtly colored blanket, the window behind them, the plant to their left, no shadow of the carpet, am I supposed to be awake? sometimes I get lost in what I'm "supposed" to do:

"just try to understand what someone is saying, that's my goal"

to understand if indeed my submission to her offer of charted feelings is passive, my body unanimously folds to each syllable waiting to say, "yes" "you're right" but not out of exclamation and "I've always been like this"

always wondered if passivity/ submission are the same, versus the binary of aggression / dominance..?

she might reply that "always" is and (as she's tallied them) are unhelpful,

to add an example: but the only ones I can recall include always!

so it's a loop, and was I also always meant to be in a chair, without room for my words to be loud, a safe space is controlled "always", I intrigued the thought to change the radio station in the waiting area, but a woman with her legs spread out and glasses on the table owned that side of the room, and the door opened, the noise machine ran, her hand pulled me and I walked in "always".


Millineries said...

There is so much dominance in submission, and so much submission in dominance, certainly. They are like mirrors for one another, twins with varying tastes. But the physical motions are opposites, mirrorings and opposites. My question is wrapped around affliction, perpetration. Never wanted to physically inflict, before. It wasn't interesting to me. I don't want it to be.

Anonymous said...

i'm starting to understand, but if it's not too much could you explain more about there being dominance in submission/ submission in dominance?