The hidden room, while abandoned, was hardly a secret. Everyone at Hotel Julian knew about it. As I had guessed, it was built during the hotel reconstruction phase in the late 1940’s. Designed to function as a nuclear fallout shelter, the room was built by Minerva’s late husband, who had died not from fallout, butContinue reading “Fallout and Fall In”
Across the hidden room (no longer secret now that I and Zoeasta had broken the code) the back door opened onto a giant spider web blocking a small opening in the annulus surrounding a wellbore encased with cement. I had wondered about the absence of spiders as I had worked my way from the basementContinue reading “Conversation with Minerva”
Zoeasta, one of the range free cats living about Hotel Julian, disappeared, and it was assumed she picked a spot to give birth to her litter. I found her in a box licking five closed eyes kittens when I returned with a flashlight to the storage room in the basement under the grocery to continueContinue reading “Zoeasta and the Hidden Room”
Reflecting yesterday afternoon on my morning post, “On the Coast Starlight,” in which I suggested thought, if we are to try to compare it to anything, seems more bird-like than the train of thought first found in Thomas Hobbes’s 1651 “Leviathan,” I thought, to force thought onto a track where ideas are coupled one afterContinue reading “Birdbrain, Bird-witted, and more on Thought”
The house is not a mysterythat’s made from trees and historyfrom every old nook and crannyyou hear the voice of a nanny. Papa pops up to make earlythe coffee and lets out Zoethe cat points like a unicornthe approach of a vacuum horn. The grand girls all day playpretend puzzles of their worldwhile the boardContinue reading “The House in Summer (for ZZ & Chloe)”
A beastly catechism dog eared brown cat drenched frozen green halo. I just kwikzilver looked. Mighty nice mice nook. Opening opinion pending please query queue quorum. Run straight toward universe vast wobbly. Exit your zero.
A kin of kindly epiphany, unblinding, not whiskey aflame in your raw throat, a mud dog’s bouche to your uncupped groin, but the silent soft brush of a cat rub against your leg to say hello and please pay attention to her.
He ate no more, “Please me no tuna dish at your open door,” around the room a moat filled with stone worms. For bait he’d chummed kittens cutely perched in nooks of paper cut hearts. A trawler he rowed to catch the bones of relict relish. He went on like this and on, a sophistContinue reading “An Old Cat”
is it? is it? is it? what time is it? the cricket asks the night notes call a view of space with ornamental lights near like the cat hiss skin rips claws a violet sky saturates maroon the cauliflower cumulus moon this squall passes as does this darkness the outdoor words drift over the riverContinue reading “isit”
I’ve noticed when I pick up the guitar and the cat Zoe is hanging out, she’ll scurry off to a quieter corner. Cats have excellent ears. Yesterday, home from the afternoon music theory class I’ve been taking, I organized my notes and handouts, reviewing each page. I left the pages in neat piles on theContinue reading “The Cat Music Critic”
Catnap back to wind-sun rush kick in the eye fire-worked over street cools quiet hush Grace comes with natural light patches of prayer breezes in the hither and thither of dry leaves palms up elbows open frazzled knees and a calico cat in green sky white bells crawls over out door cot jumps through squareContinue reading “Summer Notes: 3 – The Morning Nap”