Pink

At a friend's house,
a house with lots of dogs.

I hear him coming,
holding a jingling collar,
and I'm like

that's my collar, isn't it.

It totally was.



Green

Random
friendly
dog!
I crouched and
let her assess me
and I pet her and
rubbed her face and
told her how
nice twas to
meet her;
I hope that
I see her
again.



Figurine Man

Jacob Bride sets his mug of coffee down on the side table, and
sits himself down in the rocking chair on his back porch. He looks
out at the open desert. Takes a big smell of the fine dirt in the
air. From the side table, he picks up his sharpened knife and a
block of basswood. He looks down at his hands as he works, though
his mind's eye is jumping ahead. He whittles off the corners,
molding the basswood block into a shape that is curved, organic,
reminiscent of something living.

From out of the wood, Bride uncovers a pair of tall pointed ears,
simple pyramids for now. He works away at the negative spaces,
which in the process forms a back, a chest, four legs, a belly, a
tail. He approaches the head more carefully, finishing out the
beginnings of her portraiture with a cranium and a snout.

With the rough shapes done, Bride retrieves his glasses from the
side table. In doing so, he also remembers his coffee, and has a
long drink of it now that it has gone from piping hot to warm.

Glasses on, Bride holds the wood closer to his eye level, and
leans in and around the work as necessary. He carves out the
insides of the tall ears, each one's inner surface smooth, each
one's outer surface patterned as hair, the remaining wood at the
ears paper-thin yet appearing as sturdy as the blocky pyramids had
been. The ears stand upright, the inner-ears facing forward,
listening. He carves her eyes, appraising. He carves her nose,
nostrils flared. He etches out the details of her tall, attentive
posture.

Bride sets the figurine on the side table. She stands looking at
something far off, sensing.