An Edgar Allen Poem About Your Fucking Dog
It’s about to get Gothic, dearest neighbors.
Published in
3 min readAug 21, 2020
Hear the dogs with their barks —
Happy barks!
What precursor to escapade their exclamations tell!
How they shout, shout, shout
In the icy air of dawn!
While the stars are still about
All my sleepiness falls out
With a much confus-ed start
Keeping time, time, time
In a sort of morning-person rhyme
To the grating conflagration that so noisily wells
From the barks, barks, barks, barks,
From the clatter and the rattle of the barks.
Hear the mellow growls
Warning growls!
What imminence of danger their lowly rumbles tell!
Through the balmy air of night
How they sound their little might
From the throaty rumbled notes
And all in pre-dawn gloom
My growing frustration floats
To the trash-panda that listens while she gloats
