The Red Dog

I sent the even lines from my 20 line poem to Steve Pump and this is what he came up with to fill in the lines. He seemed to hone in on the dog from my piece, possibly because it appeared more than once in my poem.

the red dog

a poem in hand
and subtle glance

transcribed the play of
morning talk

in which I was the red
dog lazing between

dreams of knees, fed on
attention, content

to move within a single room
in the morning light.

I heard the song of the dumb gods,
mugs refilled, salty skin

still smelling of sleep, eyes
exchanged, the silence

broken by my poem, the song
of the dog needing

a familiar shadow to follow,
back door opened,

asking nothing as if to say,
"what do you want to do today?"
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I really like the idea here of the dog following his shadow...