By Dan Hogan
29 December, 2021
Dan Hogan is Running Dog’s poet in residence for November and December 2021.
Each month, a poet produces new work, which is distributed via Running Dog’s monthly newsletter—Stray. If you haven’t already, sign up to our newsletter.
• • •
I stick my leg out the window of my feral continuation. Time
to wingsuit off this fuck. A well-trod lineage. It is inevitable
the garbage rises. Disintegration defined by a glitchy nod
at decrepitude. Path to monstrosity? Yes please. Consider this extra task
part of your professional development. I believe in an interventionist
Santa. Mutation? I’ll shout ya a scratchie. Everybody needs a small piece
of church at the right time. So drunk at late night shopping right now.
I stick my leg out the window of my luxury apartment and can’t
believe the financial year is almost over. Said nobody ever. Who’s
keen to go down to the old mill and feel dread? I stick my leg out
the window and livestream the rain. The shoe is wet but the foot is dry.
So many things are like an old saying. You can lead a horse to Ferris
Bueller’s funeral but you can’t make it drink the funeral juice. Monster?
The shoe is soaked and yet
the foot remains dry. Explain that one to the panel. I’d like to state
for the record that sometimes there is rain and sometimes I burn butter.
Every horse is a neigh sayer. The magnets on my fridge are all very
weak. Their days numbered. Some people just want to watch the world
back burn. I stick my leg out the window of this tenancy and sleet
dampens my shinpad of a life. Better get ready for work before I get
in trouble again. I walk in the direction of work clothes, careful
not to take each day as it comes and one day posh snorkel. The shoe
is fully satched but the foot couldn’t be more dry if it tried. On my way
home, a podcast to the face. I am reminded how
the first person in space was a dog. Sick of hearing it. So angry at the
sun right now I can’t even look at it. What I will look at is the ibis
syphoning stormwater from potholes at the drive-thru. Another day,
another dollar. My next horse will be a clothes horse. I stick my leg out
the window of this feral trickery, order a medium quarter pounder meal
with Coke for the drink. Thank you. Proceed to the next