Gregory Braquet lets us see the true Lassie, then confesses that "love hurts." For such incomparable pairing, we've created a new corpse Division. (By the way, for those who know us not: the different Divisions of the Corpse have their offices in different buildings in different cities in the world, and are managed by anonymous litterateurs with a record.)
Robert Sward introduces us to "Shelby the Dog" in his new poem. Shelby is a philosopher, a bit Zen, and a teacher Lassie can use. Also appearing here is Laika, the space dog who (with Elvis) invented the Sixties.
Paul B. Hertneky, cool as a cucumber, regards his dog from a non-attachment perspective
Christine Hamm asks "Who has not wished her husband into a cat?," and nobody around here raised their hand. OK.
Judith Roche has mastered the Vulcan technique of Mind-Meld with lakes, lake creatures, angels, and also Raven and Coyote. In these poems, she drafts them for Good.
Colette LaBouff Atkinson delivers the animal heat and flurry of parrots, pigs, steers, sliced like time for the uses of words
Rebecca Lu Kiernen came into this division for "body temperature tentacles tickling flesh," sufficient reason it seemed to us to place her in the anti-anthropomorphic camp (sometimes we are wrong). But then, there are also "claw marks in the curtains." Who made them and why is a proper study for Kantian students.
Kenji Siratori needs no explanation; his work, "Reptilian," is just that.
David Parker Jr. subtly explains how the rich kill the unborn, in "Art of the Egg."