Bite More / Taste Less -------> (Ramblings)

Ramblings of a alleged realist, supposed poet, and apparently ambitious something-or-other.

Preachers Say the Darndest Things


My dog dies when I was 13.

The vet said she drank too much antifreeze

and that she was never coming out of the coma.


When I was young I used to think that her nose

had healing powers.

If I had a headache I would press her nose

against my forehead, and feel better.

And now her nose was dry and still.


As we walked out of the animal hospital that night

the moon was the color of cold hands

sweating a ring around the night

and the stars were scattered like roadkill

on the black pavement of the sky


raccoon teeth and

squirrel bones.


The road home was made of glass

and I looked for you in windows

and in trees

because I was afraid of hell

and nonexistence

but mostly I just missed you.



A week later

my brother and I attended

a youth conference and the

preacher asked us to raise our

hands if we had lost a pet recently.

Then he told us that all of our

dead pets are exactly that,

that no dogs go to heaven because

they don’t have souls.


And as the adults heaved their

sacred laughs

and as the preacher made

more jokes than sense

my brother held his crumbling face

in his hands

and wept as quietly as he could.

I put my arm around him,

and in my young heart

vowed to kill that preacher.


I leaned over gently

and whispered to my brother

that if Jesus is coming back on a white horse

then there must be stables in heaven

full of them.

And that means there has to be

dogs running loose in the golden streets

pissing on the sapphire hydrants

digging up alabaster bones

and tugging at the crystal robes

of angels. 


  1. dinosaurdog reblogged this from bitemoretasteless and added:
    this one is my favourite.
  2. bitemoretasteless posted this