Posts for June 5, 2016 (page 2)

at first a chitter, prelude to violence,
viola warming its strings, bass drum
rattling its boom—

Louis emerges from his cardboard box,
Garfield face a menace, nonconforming,
the sullen smirk of teen
primed to spew snark,
pads,
his fat rustles the spring grass,
unblinking, pauses casually
to lick his paws

the raccoon, swollen as an arch,
bares her teeth, her eyes spotlights
beaming warnings in Aramaic tongues
soft underbellies, prefect spears
poised to pierce a cat’s heart

crescendo enters stage left
dancer on pointe, spin cycle,
animated cartoon of an Irish wife
with iron skillet, but with fangs
in place of curses

skirmish
beating of harpy wings,
cackle of devil’s bride,
demon brawl, free for all,
ears flattened to skull
white chin stained red
dripping with rabies

in the end a single image—
cat stands, whiskers defiant

Napoleon sits atop a fence
one paw tucked
into his chest

there is no peace
among city dwellers

Thought about what you need, then
Thought about offering a reply, then
Thought it might be insensitive
Perhaps a little rash
Adding itch to a rash
Knowing there could be wrath
Repaid with a cynical bath
Of “love me. Love me. Love me!”
Suds of soapy sympathy
Failing to clean gentle apathy
Driving a force of entropy
That would make me the next entry
In your diary of lonely
What if envyings.

I was there once so I understand
But life is not simply
Who is crawling into bed with you
And when.
Surprises come when you stop searching
Letting go to let it happen
Only then will you cease to be lonely.

Changing elements
converge to a point 
agreement

Contrasting opinions
differing views
aspire to merge with 
reason

Ethics of the natural system guide
hear the song
echo the setiment
witness the symmetry 
coalesce

In the house we gravitate to our own space:
I binge on reality TV in the basement,
my spouse scrolls through Facebook on the first floor,
our son games on the second. Our daughter
invites us to leave the house for her private phone call.
The cats snooze on the porch.

On our son’s birthday the family goes out together.
“Glad we could get you something nice!”
I say, as we exit the bicycle shop. Without missing a beat,
he replies, “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,
but you really need to buy me a car.”

Awake 4:30 a.m.  Find there is no sun, nor moon,
rising.  No star amid the haze, the morning mist
 
of pre-dawn companionship.  There is no one
this side of nocturnal embrace.  Without dreams

you and I are interstitial, waning black with pink
at the edges; wait and see sailor’s warning in red

morning.  A beginning.  A partial, impartial,
story.  A cat, inside a box, deciding itself

living or dying.  Weigh the disparity:
wake or return to sleep, to shadow

worlds, where waking means distance
and slumber means meeting the lion.

Again.

Always picking the crumbs
From her breasts
And
Licking the lipstick
And
The salt
Off the corners
Of her mouth

She never heard an insult
That didn’t crack her ass
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