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Politics : Sharks in the Septic Tank -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: bonnuss_in_austin who wrote (1871)	1/21/2001 2:39:05 AM
From: Bald Eagle	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 82486

I thought I told you, I've only been here about three weeks, so I'm hardly an an expert on Alaskan life. I've been living in New Orleans for the last ten years or so and that's where my permanent residence is. As for the dog funeral, I personally think you're going a little overboard. Do you think dogs have a soul? BTW, I haven't actually seen a moose yet, but there was a warning sign today at the office where I work saying: Beware, moose in the area.

To: bonnuss_in_austin who wrote (1871)	1/21/2001 5:22:55 PM
From: E	Respond to of 82486

<<<. is there anything you could direct me to that would be 'spiritual' about joy, etc, regarding the spirit of a dog 'passing on?'>>> Below is a poem from The Collected Poems of Stevie Smith. Who was a genius. It is a poem that would be appropriate to read at the occasion you describe. You mention that your dog is a yellow Lab. The first line of this poem is Belvoir thy coat was not more golden than thy heart This is a link to some bio on her: smpcollege.com Stevie Smith is subtle and bold, and she's funny. Even the dark, moving poems often incorporate a kind of dark humor, and irony. This poem uses both. I'm sure she was crying when she wrote this poem. Death of the Dog Belvoir Belvoir thy coat was not more golden than thy heart That beats no more Now thy fled spirit Delicate and suave Thy virtue's core Above the grave must soar. Alas for baronet bereft of noble dog and left To bear the mourner's part. Let funeral smart And dirge Be all my song And my song's urge Ding dong. For nobler heart beat never in more noble breast And of beasts best Thou with the least In Death art dresst. Farewell Ding dong Dear dog so ends my song.

To: bonnuss_in_austin who wrote (1871)	1/21/2001 5:33:27 PM
From: E	Respond to of 82486

BTW, the collection contains little illustrations, sketches by Smith herself. The sketches-- doodles, really-- of Belvoir do look like sketches of a Lab. This is another poem about Belvoir. A little one, but lovely. How amazing to be able to write moving poetry without a trace of treacle communicating your grief at the death of a dog. To the Dog Belvoir Whom I saw in a Dream Push Baby N. from under a Brewer' Dray and Die in His Place The stricken Belvoir raised a paw and said: I die a perfect gentle quadruped.

To: bonnuss_in_austin who wrote (1871)	1/21/2001 6:13:19 PM
From: bela_ghoulashi	Respond to of 82486

One of bland's very favorite poems. If James Dickey had written nothing else, imho this alone would have made him great: The Heaven of Animals Here they are. The soft eyes open. If they have lived in a wood It is a wood. If they have lived on plains It is grass rolling Under their feet forever. Having no souls, they have come, Anyway, beyond their knowing. Their instincts wholly bloom And they rise. The soft eyes open. To match them, the landscape flowers, Outdoing, desperately Outdoing what is required: The richest wood, The deepest field. For some of these, It could not be the place It is, without blood. These hunt, as they have done, But with claws and teeth grown perfect, More deadly than they can believe. They stalk more silently, And crouch on the limbs of trees, and their descent Upon the bright backs of their prey May take years In a sovereign floating of joy. And those that are hunted Know this as their life, Their reward: to walk Under such trees in full knowledge Of what is in glory above them, And to feel no fear, But acceptance, compliance. Fulfilling themselves without pain At the cycle’s center, They tremble, they walk Under the tree, They fall, they are torn, They rise, they walk again.