Thursday, November 14, 2013

A cat called Maple

When on doubt on what to post, remember the useful and popular cat! This particular one was a mouser on Goatsbeard Farm for many years. I got this look when attempting her portrait one fine day in late winter about a dozen years ago. I think it is pretty spectacular. I particularly like her amber eyes. Does she make you think of an apology you forgot to give? Go and get that accomplished. Are you saving money for your retirement? Well, get going!


You talk to your loved ones

at night. It is a kind of modernism:

color sees into you, thinks a warm

path, a tint of meaning brought

from how you feel. Then, you are double:

the owl calls out, tyto alba,

in your sleep—scrip scrr—heart-shaped face

emitting loose nouns … Under its turf,

the smart mouse turns; the fierce dead

merge with the recently born

where earlier they emptied what you seek—

How will you be known? Some

registered complaints. You passed them

in the hallway, their new haircuts.

The bosses are known by new wars.

What salmon are left hurry upstream—

cold swaths in the bay. Linnets, by

rose fire at the edges—(linnet or finch?

the word edge has wings made of “e”);

the moon rests in a mantle

of minutes, its boundaries in back

of the trees. Boundaries

are known by their nothings—;

you will be known by your dreams.
---Brenda Hillman

I hadn't known about this site (I found it looking for something else) and will have to return and spend more time. This was posted last year. I hope it continues. Sleep well.

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