VOX CANINA: the dog’s tale
“Rrrr,” I am the Voice of Dog.
My Master, Abbot Audenarde, becomes detached from the monastery and my life. He digresses into death, vanishing, cut-off, concealed. Dirt gulps him down.
Abundant missing overflows.
“Rrrr-Oooo,” to use abusive language and to inflame fierce bitterness.
There follows a gloomy Mass to find pleasure in such a taking-away.
Bearing affliction, discouraged, I adhere. Adapt.
“Rrrr-Oooo,” I accuse.
At any time, please, someone else nourish, cherish me as did Master, Abbot Audenarde. Commit to be near. I would be indebted to receive a claim.
The fawning young Monk Brabant is kindled to come and reach toward me. He is ill with a constricted heart, scarcely brazen with favorable atmosphere.
The summer tide of heat is without end. Monk Brabant farms his acre field, a vineyard planted with trees. He…
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