The House in Summer (for ZZ & Chloe)

The house is not a mystery
that’s made from trees and history
from every old nook and cranny
you hear the voice of a nanny.

Papa pops up to make early
the coffee and lets out Zoe
the cat points like a unicorn
the approach of a vacuum horn.

The grand girls all day play
pretend puzzles of their world
while the board games nap
gathering light into a lens.

At night the windows fly
boat sails lift the sky
climb the moon high
and breath falls to a sigh.

An Impure Primer

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.

Epiphanic Cat

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.


An Old Cat

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 sophist uttering disgruntled
guttural grunts mistaken
for charms by gullible
attendants on holiday for good.

His gig whirled on the briny beach,
bodies of ditched sea snails filling
with new fats and oils and muscle.
He stow away in a cave,
plenty likes to last a new day.

isit

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 river
as the last cricket replies

is it? is it? is it?
time to get
out of bed yet?

The Cat Music Critic

The Cat Music CriticI’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 the dining room table.

This morning, I go to resume my music musing, and what do I find but the cat music critic’s overnight review – Zoe had barfed over my notes.

Cats are excellent communicators. I’m glad she doesn’t tweet.

Summer Notes: 3 – The Morning Nap

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 square
of rusted wire fence

Summer dawns
mind full of weeds
with long roots and
the body takes pleasure
in walking the mind
nowhere

 

Summer Notes: 1 – Baseball

Run now down the dreary drowning droning
cheers of summer under yellow umbrellas
American baseball under rain
A last blue light in the little lilac
and raspberries wandering and falling
spray of pop flies
Sun slips between clouds squeeze play
cat sitting on cedar deck
gives backward glance
White stone paper cup empty beer
jangle of green grass fills
sun and cat and clouds
Fans all napping
sun crosses bird feathers
field and stands empty nest.