Bark Too

A collection of poetry by award winning author Charles W Harvey. Reissued from the popular When Dogs Bark. These poems tell the unvarnished truth. They are not about daffodils or a walk in the park. They speak of the grittiness of love and touch the underbelly. A few might have you rushing to the refrigerator for your favorite cucumber.Bark TooIt’s finally here. From the Author of the original When Dogs Bark, comes Bark Too. This edition contains all of the poetry of the original plus some added. It’s slim, compact--just right for today’s reading technology. Carry this in your phone or your favorite tablet. Or just read it on your computer. What are these poems about? I think they are about the truth, unvarnished and raw. The praises speak for themselves. Why all of this bark stuff? What does a dog do when he wants your attention? He barks. What does a dog do when he senses danger? He growls. What does a dog do when he wants his belly rubbed and his ears stroked? He whines and snuggles close to you. In Bark Too you will experience the dog in all of his ways. Some of his words will make you back off and some will make you go to your refrigerator, pull out the cucumber, and...well we want go there. Breeze through the sample and take a chance. Woof!Don’t forget to check out the short story that started all of this barking stuff. And for you paper lover’s the original paperback is available.Now some things to make you go “hmm.”Night ClothesThe best time to be naked is 3:00 amBlack velvet skin is the proper attireAs you stand on your balcony Stroking the night—A little drink, a little smoke, a little lonely.There ought to be other menStanding on their porches tooAiming the red tips of their cigarettesAt you.anonymous menThere is blue joyin solitude,sweetness in the lonely soft night that drapes the bones of black men.I dance in this solitude.I carry wrapped in my heart to my homea willowy young body.We make love in solitaryLater,we kiss under the blue morning canopyand carry off pieces of blue joyin our deep pockets.Seven-Thousand And OneI’m going to write me a bookand put you in it.On the cover, it’s youall naked--black, brown, or red.You will be bald, afroed, or dreadlocked.Your sex will be nine inches of hot loveor six inches of sweet satisfaction.Your ass will have more curves than a sweet cantaloupes.I’ll title my book“How To Love You.”Every page will be blank.All we have to do is fill themone leaf at a time.Don’t worry the plot,we make it up as we go along.I wrote “the end” on pageSeven thousand and one.So let’s just take our time.