Thursday, March 30, 2006

Good Lovings

Good Lovings
30 March 2006

Woke up with a start
I could feel my heart
Headed out the door
Sniffing the floor
Looking for my human
Who was sitting on the can

Just needed to be kneaded
To ease away sweat that had beaded
Some wispy fragment of a dream
I’d let build up too much steam
Till the knot in my stomach
Had left me a bit of a wreck

Good loving’s all it takes
For all our sakes
To usher back in the sunshine
And put an end to a blue day’s pine
Shared strokes and a kiss
Bring back my sense of bliss

Monday, March 27, 2006

What to Write

What to Write
27 March 2006

What to write?
That’s the plight
So much in the news
People lining up in queues
Marching in protest
Streets filled with unrest
Both at home and abroad
Against governments flawed
People dying in their own neighborhood
Shot by others who feel misunderstood
Where’s Pollyanna when you need her
To give one a reason to purr?

Grrr…

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

So Many Minds

So Many Minds
22 March 2006

So many minds busily clicking
So much noise today with all this ticking
How’s a fellow supposed to sleep
Without clothes piled in a warm heap?
There’s so much tension, I can’t concentrate
Do I interrupt P.U. when there’s JJ to bait?
The doorbell rings; I hate that sound
It always makes me want to go to ground
Dishes are banging, keyboards are clacking
This is worse than when everybody’s packing
At least the glorious sunset signals the end for today
And ushers in feasting and a nighttime of play

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Sunset

Sunset
21 March 2006

I sit and watch the setting sun
See the neighborhood having funWhile JJ sleeps between the sheets
And dreams of crispy protein treats
P.U. smells of something tasty
Typing here all stern and hasty
Nature and Nurture now converge
It’s time for the Maxter to emerge!

Saturday, March 18, 2006

Sleep

Sleep
18 March 2006

Must sleep today to make up for last night
When P.U. tossed and turned
As though in some furious fight
And the skin burned
As though inflamed from within
Fueled by some unseen coal bin

Today though the sun shines brilliant and bright
I seek the cool undercover darkness of night
It’s time to return to my nocturnal roots
So I can survive tonight’s repeated boots
Out of bed as P.U. once again tosses and turns
From the shooting pains and the skin that burns

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

I Don't Understand

I Don’t Understand
14 March 2006

I don’t understand why P.U. was so upset
Yesterday was the warmest it’s been yet
We should keep the heater on all the time
I felt so good I wanted to climb
Everything, everyone
Under the sun
Warmth is free
Or should be
Doesn’t cost one single thin dime
And it feels so wonderfully sublime
But there’s P.U., who just can’t let
Well enough alone, I’ll bet
That’s why last night
It was so cold we had to fight
Just to get warm enough to snuggle
Under the covers for a good cuddle

Sunday, March 12, 2006

Quiet Day

Quiet Day
12 March 2006

Quiet day
Kids play
Sunshine passes
Sleet stirs masses
Cars crash
People dash
Rain falls
Mood palls
Heater stifles
Sound of rifles
Time to sleep
Dream deep

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Got Shot Today

Got Shot Today
8 March 2006

Got shot today
Thought I was headed out to play
Cruising down the hall to send P.U. on the way

Got caught up in a fond farewell embrace
Ended up being removed from my place
Squeezed into a small, dark, smelly space
Fear-bleached scents: more than a trace

Engine started, garage door rose
I could feel my claws curling into my toes
As I heard the garage door once again close
I could taste bile in my throat as it rose
But then fresh scents assailed my nose

There was something familiar about the road
We’d gone this way before, just like Mr. Toad
There’d been a long wait in a distant parking lot
Then we’d returned to our starting spot
JJ had been jealous because he’d been left behind
Reminding him when I got back wouldn’t be unkind
But that kind of trip this one was not meant to be
As all too soon for myself I would see

There was a young woman who weighed me in
Then a young man, not particularly thin
Who tried to stick a cold object up my ass
Till I hissed him; then he let it pass
I was very upset as I’m sure you’ll understand
Respect’s not an option; it’s what I demand
But P.U. was there to hold me until
My breathing slowed down and I lay still

A long time later another young man
This one a doctor with a bit of a tan
He spoke with assurance but moved carefully
Looked into my eyes and understood my plea
I didn’t appreciate the four shots he gave me
But soon enough all I knew was that I was groggy

On the ride home we sped ‘round a curve
Someone made P.U. have to swerve
I found myself rolling along on my side
But I wouldn’t have known if it’d been high tide

Eventually we made it back home in one piece
And I was set down in the kitchen for release
JJ didn’t dare ask questions when he saw my face
Though he did hiss me later when he wanted my space
But mostly he’s left me alone out of the way
Because, well, you know, I got shot today

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

After the Rain

After the Rain
7 March 2006

Rain rattled on the rooftop and beat on the window panes, then stopped. P.U. opened the glass door onto the courtyard after only a brief argument. The newly cut grass stubble has not yet put forth fresh shoots, but there remain a few untouched tips of old blades, still good for a light snack. I step carefully across the stubble, stopping to greet an earthworm here, a spider there, old friends from before the long annual cold spell.

Behind me I hear JJ checking out the rainwater, P.U. cautioning him against drinking it, as though we do not understand the concerns caused by Marco’s recent demise. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, there arises a once familiar sound: the twittering of newborn birds. JJ is aroused. Too bad he just got his legs run off during his morning exercise session… :->

P.U. leaves the doorway; I follow to supervise the writing of this blog. Too often of late I fear I have been misquoted, misrepresented, misunderstood. One must speak one’s own mind if one desires understanding.

Take the Oscars — no, seriously, take them. Take them off the air. Take away all commercial-interlaced programming that insists on blaring and subsiding, blaring and subsiding, as though eardrums are their personal toys to destroy as they see fit. Of course, that should not be taken as advocacy for exclusive dvd programming either, for even with the closed captioning on, somehow the television set continues to blast and subside, blast and subside. What do those movie makers think they’re doing anyway: imitating real life? How representational can they be when they feature extinct creatures and sentient machinery? Give me a nice, quiet film with lush scenery and low, slow dialogue or better yet, silent films. Now, that was filmmaking!

Who am I kidding? I’ve never seen a silent film – only one on mute. Now that’s what I’m talking about. How else is a fellow to get quality time with the family and still keep up with 22 hours of rest a day? I ask you . . .

Monday, March 06, 2006

Outside My Window

Outside My Window
6 March 2006

Outside my window there is a tree
Whose branches have been bare
I sit and watch it day after day
Looking for signs of life out there

Now as the new moon waxes strong
And rains beat upon the glass
I see the beginnings of little buds
And at its base fresh grass

My energy, too, is on the rise
I feel it in my joints and jaws
If only there were birds and mice
To catch between my paws

But, alas, there’s just the one
Who always serves my needs
Where is my little brother now,
JJ, of the many speeds?

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

M Is for March

M is for March, Melissa, and Max. Let the blustery winds blow where they will - we'll party hardy!

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Out a Window

Out a Window
28 February 2006

Sitting in a coffee shop being ignored
Looked out the window cuz I was so bored
When much to my surprise I can’t believe what I see:
Leaves everywhere on each formerly naked tree
Except that little one over there with the faintest buzz
Like a pubescent teen’s first peach fuzz
Spring may not be fully sprung yet
But Nature ‘round here is all set

Monday, February 27, 2006

Im Not Spoiled

I’m Not Spoiled
27 February 2006

How dare they say so? I’m not spoiled
When I was a kitten I daily toiled
Day after tomorrow I’ll be six
And still my purr can give them kicks
Loving my human is a labor of love
You know very well what I’m speaking of
Why, just this morning I was sound asleep
When a sorry thought brought me out of the deep
A self-pitying complaint about a lack of greeting
As though every return required a new meeting
We hauled ourselves up, JJ and I
Hustled down the hallway to prevent a moist eye
He purred and I paced, played hard to get
That kind of pleasing hasn’t failed yet
Rain always brings ant trails but do I complain
Not a grumble say I, no I politely refrain
I’m patient, I am, as sure as you please
Even turning my head if I think that I’ll sneeze
So don’t tell me that you think I’m spoiled
Just because I require stroking when I choose to be coiled

Sunday, February 26, 2006

Rainy days are here

Rainy days are here again
I hear those raindrops on my roof
Horses thunder across the turf
Animals subjugated; want further proof?
JJ’s taken my bed again
That chubby ill-trained muscular poof
Windswept sails skim the surf
Amphibians unrelated; I stand aloof
Water is not a cat’s best friend
And so this rhyme now must end

Olympians have wrapped up their show
After Americans had their usual row
Still our representatives show no shame
Content that an uncaring world knows their name
Whatever happened to national pride
And knowing when it was time to hide
Why does the media miss the real heroes
Focusing instead on fools’ woes
Or is it just the news that I read
Missing the good stuff because I forgot to weed
Trash needs dumping, that’s for sure
Only suckers bite at headlines that lure
With tales of wrongdoings instead of what’s right
Tales about those still fighting the good fight
Going about quietly each and every day
Knowing when to go and when to stay
People for whom praises don’t need to ring
People who prefer to cheerfully smile and sing
People whose actions show others how to be
With quiet, hard work, both at home and across the sea

26 February 2006

Saturday, February 25, 2006

Life Cycle

Life Cycle
25 February 2006

The stillness of another sleepy afternoon was abruptly broken by the sound of a shovel striking stone in the soil on the edge of the courtyard. Voices debated the wisdom of transplanting the long-suffering lemon tree into a hole that might straddle a water pipe. More important to JJ and to me is the fact that the goldfish who preceded us in this family are buried at the base of the lemon tree under discussion. What happens to them if the tree is uprooted? Isn’t that a violation of their final resting place? Or, like Europeans, are their remains sufficiently returned to the earth after five years that they will not be disturbed? Life, death, the endless cycle… these things go round and round in my furry brain… I only wish I knew. I must be satisfied, I suppose, merely to ponder… this and other ineffable things in my world.

Friday, February 24, 2006

Vectors 2.0: More Aphorisms and Ten-Second Essays

Found this in P.U.'s mailbox, evidently downloaded a couple of years ago. Hope you enjoy these as much as I did. gmfe

Vectors 2.0: More Aphorisms and Ten-Second Essays

1. Already tomorrow and too late, still yesterday and too soon.

2. It was not sin that brought death, but the reverse. When God first appeared in Eden, we started, suddenly ashamed we had a secret no immortal could understand.

3. Mountains occur together.

4. I have no time, he snapped, as if he'd just asked himself for alms, and refused.

5. Birds of prey don't sing.

6. Happiness, like water, is always available, but so often it seems we'd prefer a different drink.

7. Travel reminds us we are always traveling.

8. Better to repeat the obvious than fear it.

9. Most of what looks like change is cliché perfecting itself.

10. How often feelings are circular. How embarrassing to appear embarrassed. How annoying to be annoyed.

11. I was 25, till I was 40, 40 till I was 50. But now my age is like the speedometer. If I don't pay attention it drifts, 60, 70, 80....

12. My illness cures me. By telling me at last what's wrong.

13. What a fool! I say of myself, with a vehemence and embarrassment that must mean I'd been thinking I wasn't.

14. The wrong blessing is no blessing.

15. They break down my body, my peace, alas, my principles: devils are personal, like genes. They are the one-room fire on the fourteenth floor that crowds watch, glad it's someone else. For large-scale catastrophe, you need a god: something everyone believes in.

16. In saying my work fails I flatter myself that I have imagined what it should have been.

17. Fire loves best what it cannot burn.

18. Do not be too quick to pull out your flaws. They endure dry seasons, thrive uncared for. They have deeper roots than you. They hold the slope in place.

19. The despair of the blank page: it is so full.

20. Ax built the house but sleeps in the shed.

21. The chorus fills what the soloist has emptied.

22. There is no misstep till you put your foot down.

23. It's not that no one notices his scheme, it's just that it would be more tedious to expose him than to go along. Which is more annoying: that he doesn't know this, or that he probably does?

24. I'm difficult to annoy, but the few who get the knack never seem to lose it.

25. His lie doesn't bother me as much as the truth he thinks he knows.

26. How sure we are that everyone's watching. How sure we are that no one sees.

27. We trust the embarrassed one. He believes the world is thinking of him more than it is. But at least he believes in the world.

28. Useful to see how you could love every person, every job, for an hour. Necessary to realize how short an hour is.

29. It's not a fact or feeling or even a flaw that's embarrassing but who I was pretending to be.

30. What scares me in suffering is the mechanical. The repetition compelled and wobbly, like a wheel with something wrong with it. The voice with something in it like bad brakes.

31. The Unembarrassable are like gods. We envy them; we hate them; they don't exist.

32. Know thyself. Ok, so?

33. Inside the head, art's not democratic. I wait a long time to be a writer good enough even for myself.

34. Institutions are the opposite of God: their periphery is everywhere, their center nowhere.

35. We can "have" ideas or feelings or experiences, but we cannot really tell which are ours, and they can be given away freely. But some things I need permission to tell. Our real privacy belongs to others.

36. Why do I complain, since I'd brush off solace? Some pains I just have to say, as if to confess faults before someone accused me of them.

37. Injustice: the god whose name we whisper when no other has remembered us.

38. First I have to learn to love myself, always makes me writhe. I'm the last person I want to hear I love you from, the last I want to say it to. The part of myself I like is the part that works, like a good tool. The part of myself I love is the part that loves you.

39. He Thought Positively till he became a euphemism for himself.

40. Some busy themselves to distract their passion, others because they cannot find it.

41. Why should they love your work? Do you?

42. When we suffer, we think we owe nothing. We imagine we suffer so we can imagine we owe nothing.

43. When all agree, so does the Devil.

44. Everything's text used to be scary: Look, I believe in less than you. Now it's just another comforting piety. You could be downloaded, Xeroxed, it says, you're immortal. And even better, No one's lived more than you, no one's wiser. Like the old song says, You are everything / And everything is you. A Great Book reading itself in the mirror.

45. Each year gets late earlier.

46. Wisdom was . . . knowing how to hold your head in the wind. But hold it that way always and you're a sermon, an ad, an idiot.

47. Light, beasts of the field, the firmament: easy. But not till the seventh day did God figure out Rest.

48. Billions of years, the dust hasn't settled. Water's still seeking its own level.

49. A car or stone becomes the exact temperature of the winter, but a man gets colder and colder.


James RichardsonThe Yale ReviewVolume 92, Number 2April 2004 Copyright © 2004 by Yale University All rights reserved. Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

WarmUp

Warm-Up
22 February 2006

The weather’s warming
I like this trend
Though bugs are swarming
There’s more outdoor time to spend

That’s it; that’s all I’ve got to say
Why should I ramble on
When there’s sunshine in which to play?
I’m gone.

Monday, February 20, 2006

Smoked Out

Smoked Out
20 February 2006

Smokey days choking haze
P.U. has put me in a daze
Two days of burning
Mounds of wood
Orthanc here at home
Can’t possibly be good
Aunty Gracie charred chicken flesh
Aunty Lynette caught JJ in mesh
Round floaty things everywhere
Chewable ribbon instead of cat hair
So many strangers in this place
All putting their noses in my face
What’s a fellow to do but retreat
Till late at night for a midnight treat?
JJ loves the pork juice on the ground
I like the salmon and shrimp all around
But smoke does funny things to perfectly good food
Putting me into an awkward mood
Today’s so cold after all that burning
And now my tummy has started churning

Auwe

Friday, February 17, 2006

Cold Blew

Cold Blew
16 February 2006

This day was cold and quiet
But sundown has brought noise
JJ and I made a bet
About P.U.’s strange new toys
He bet that sitting in the sun
Would warm his frozen haunches
I figured when P. U. was done
There’d be shrimp for our hungry paunches
The sun waxed warm
Though the day was cold
There were no clouds to form
Pictures daring and bold
No foggy banks did I espy
To offer a warm blanket
Just crisp winds dry
Under clear blue sky with no rain in sight yet
When finally the sun started down
And still the car had not returned
JJ began to worry and frown
Though I was not concerned
Soon enough as I had foretold
The garage door was heard to open
In came P.U. bringing a bit of cold
And the scent of distant fen
The ocean, too, was in the air
And something else, I think
There was a hint of something fair
Mixed in with something stink
P.U. pulled out a hammer
Then came out a drill
The din was worse than the usual yammer
And then there was a spill
More blood than usually flows at night
Flowed from that damaged limb
The carpet changed red from white
The drill had just caught the rim
Now the house is quiet again
The flow of blood is staunched
Neither bettor can claim this night a win
Tomorrow a new campaign will be launched
For now it is enough to know
The house is warming up
And P.U.’s noise reaped what it did sow
Till the brim overflowed the cup

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Love Is All a Round

Love Is All a Round
15 February 2006

You say love and I chime in
First you speak, then I begin
The words sound good as they come out
But I don’t understand what the fuss is all about
We say these words each and every day
We show each other love in every conceivable way
Why should one day be more special than the next?
Why labor to compose that particular text?
If I’m a day late and a dollar short,
Will our love be something you have to abort?
Yesterday, today, and tomorrow will still all be
The perfect time to share love between you and me

So say it again just like before
Each day promise to love me more
So what if it’s just more of the same verse?
It’s still sweet, even when terse
Your actions are what show me how much you care
They are the proof of the love that you bear
Don’t bother to spend a lot of money
Just show me that I’m still your special honey
Yesterday’s so over, don’t give it another thought
I don’t care what you have or haven’t bought
Get over here and let’s get down to cuddling
That’s what fixes everything when I feel I’m just muddling
You’re the one that I want, I have no doubt
When you’re not with me, I always pout
But hold me and love me and stroke me all night
When we’re in each other’s arms, everything is all right