Friday, June 27, 2014

my cat

my cat slept in my arms last night.
he buried his head under my chin
or stared at me lit by the light
the moon through the window shone on him,

his smooth black coat under my hands
petting him as we said goodbye
in a language we both understand,
while i did my best not to cry. 

not now, not yet, i told myself,
there will be weeks ahead for that,
but even so i could not help
but to weep and hold my dying cat.


thank Yi.

Thursday, June 26, 2014

my cat

my cat is leaving. it won't be long.

it's going to be brutal. i'm afraid.

my cat's passing will be the blow that busts the levee.

i will cry, finally.

about my cat and dave and kristie and my grandmother and tisha and whatever else the flood pulls in as it scrapes away another layer of bullshit.  

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

dolphins, not sharks, again



saw the fin break the surface, felt the fear, then relief when full breach indicated dolphin.

and many of them.

i was near a jetty in warm, clear, turquoise-tropical water, calm.

i dove in and bumped into a dolphin, then swam underwater awhile

Tuesday, June 24, 2014


rummaging around in some sort of investigation, i dig out a bomb, like one that would fall from a bomber. it's white with red trim and i am holding it in my hand - it's a little smaller than a football - and it's tic-tic-ticking.

i consider throwing it out the window but it's closed. (opening it doesn't occur to me.)

someone else is in the room - a man, older, maybe a co-invcstigator-type - and the dream ends with me attempting to get his attention.

i am not particularly alarmed, not even sure what sort of device i have dug out with my hands, that is about to explode.


it did occur to me yesterday that danny (the cabin) is a time bomb. and knows it. btw.

maybe i'm about to blow up.

white. red trim.

Thursday, June 19, 2014


i told her it's cold where we're going.
she nodded and looked at the moon,
her hair alive in the breeze blowing
the last breath of the monsoon

that had stranded us at sea on a rock,
a block of stone miles from shore,
where once was a town with a tower clock
but nothing but time is there anymore.

it's a very long story when told right,
there's bleeding and crying and death.
there's love's arc from spark to blight,
extinguished light and final breath.

there are earthquakes and fires and blizzards,
capsized vessels and trains off tracks,
witches wicked and whispering wizards;
there's retreating preceeding counter-attacks.

there are too many things to fully remember,
some too heavy to carry forward,
some still burning, turning heart to ember,
and blood on the blade of many a sword.

if we'd met before, we couldn't recall,
though how could we have not, so quick the connection.
but to look back was also to fall,
so we avoided too much recollection

and sat on the rock and stared at the stars
and away from the sun when it hung in the sky,
and splashed seawater into our scars
and let the days and nights go by

and worked on the raft and ate the fish
the waves served up occassionally,
as if the granting of a wish,
a flopping dish served by the sea.

i told her the raft would be ready
in time for the tide we would ride on the morrow.
driftwood and seaweed and hopefully steady,
lest we sink to the bottomless pile of sorrow.

i said there's no way of knowing,
we'll need luck with the current and more with the weather.
she said i don't need to know where we're going,
i just need to know we're rowing together.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Tuesday, June 17, 2014


like "Lewiston," a place. 

i went online thinking i'd meet a new word, not another location. 

click on images to enlarge.