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  February 2006
volume 4 number 1
-table of contents-
 
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  Jack G. Bowman
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  Michael Ceraolo
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  Michael Estabrook
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  Daniel garcia-Black
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  Roger Humes
  Amber Jacob
  Marianne LaValle-Vincent
  Marie Lecrivain
  Gary Lehmann
  Dave Nordling
  Aire Celeste Norell
  Raindog
  Gina MarySol Ruiz
  David W. Rushing
  Dahn Shaulis
  Durlabh Singh
  smzang
  Kari Thune
  Amy Upham
  Tyler Joseph Wiseman
 
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Raindog
February 2006
   

 

bio


photo by jerry garcia

    RD Armstrong, AKA Raindog began his most recent incarnation as a poet in the early 90s. He has 18 chapbooks, 9 books to his name and has been published in over 300 poetry magazines, anthologies, blogs and e-zines. He also operates the Lummox Press which published the Lummox Journal for 11 years; the Little Red Book series (60 titles) and the new RESPECT series of perfect bound collections of poetry. Since 1995, Raindog has labored to serve the world of small press poetry and continues to do so to this day. Visit his website at
Lummox

   

 

Boris Finds His Bliss

He tells me
Hes finally at peace with himself
And no
He didnt find Jesus
He tells me
Every day has its own meaning
How every day is a blessing

Hes happy with his friends
And his job
And his music
Everything is working out just fine

He wonders why Im not
On the same page
As him

He tells me that I
Could be if Id just get rid of my
Dour outlook
If I would just let go of my
Cynicism
I could walk in the light
Like him
I think for a moment
Mulling over all the shitty comebacks
I could come up with
And finally say
I wont preach to you about your
Delusional blissful wonderment
If you dont begrudge me of my blues

I wasnt sure if Id said it right
He looked at me as if
Hed just realized
Id stepped in something smelly
Wed both had a few
He opened his mouth
Seriously man
If youd just let go of
Your hang-dog expression
You wouldnt have to let anyone
Know you were blue on the inside

I thought about how much Ive toned down
What the public sees versus
What Im thinking
And wondered if I could
Go any lower

Maybe this was the bliss that Boris
Referred to
I wondered who had visited him
In the dead of night
Wondered further
Which eye they had
Inserted the ice pick
To scramble his brains

When I left him
He was happily tapping his foot
To the music
A contented smile
Resting on his face
Like a sliver of moon
In an autumn sky

copyright 2006 Raindog