A fox terrier is barking at the sea.
To dogs, his words might have exact meaning
depending on their breed and dialect.
It is for them that the dog barks; always;
even in his most intimate dealings
with Humans, he vocalises for the large pack
he fantasises -- from our point of view --
the pack which shall be when the world's made right.
Some canine thought will not translate that well
and seems to us flaccid, like a beach ball
that has been punctured by sharp teeth; or dull,
like something which one hopes will move, but won't.
Nevertheless, I'll try to give the gist.
He sings: Oh big area of drab water,
I mistrust you. Why do you keep moving?
I'm warning you! Be still and let me bite.
Ocean, if that's what you are – I doubt it –
don't be cowardly. Be still. I may attack.
Look at the mess you have made. Pathetic.
Is that the best you can do?
Disorder?
I've seen more chaos in my feeding bowl.
Just because there's a lot of you, you know...
I'm still warning you! I shall break contact.
I shall come back, when I am free, and piss
and I shall for a night and for a day
until you are polluted and ashamed
I will chew you into such little ponds
that you will not be coordinated
and my friends will come and drink all of you
I'm warning you. I don't like your size here
Go away now and come back much smaller.
I'm warning you. I'm warning you. Stop it.
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