Because I was afraid to sleep alone
I turned to her.
I turned to her boobs.
I turned to her food.
I turned to singing folk songs too.
In that old house
made of river stone
in that old neighborhood in
I turned to my cats too
when they’d go clickety clack on
the hardwood floors in the night
my heart would call out
and I could tell the click and the clack
of my polydactyl girl cat from
the pit and the patter of my little blue
in that old house
made of river stone.
I could call out in the southern
and they would answer me
and come lay by my side through
until the morning sun turned the air
into that phosphorescent tone
of orange and white.
when she meowed
I did hear the mischievy
of the Big Bang
the thing hearing itself as itself
these are words you’re reading
in this place in time
I guess you’re on a planet
but it’s possible a space vessel
in the plasma of a supernova
information as matter
and matter as information
the Pinky Da Principle
It was a pedestal from the sun
that healed me.
Precipiced before the town of my youth.
This same pedestal supplanted the
cellular variables in my female
and while it gave me the energy of
my next birth
it also gave her cancer,
like a plant of metabolism,
a burning of time.
If the intuition of the scientists is me
then it is also the way that I have loved
the delicate and vulnerable souls
I have loved.
These afternoons between time
can never be repeated.
They are outside the script of
has made me eternal.
Gravity has the doors
most everyone ignores
who lay on floors
they breathe in this stuff
Everyone wonders what they do
with those eyes
A million point five years
of seeing wave frequencies
that go in those special
gravity special doors
and make worlds recycle
like Christian forgiveness
computers tossed into pure
Kittens move to kiss each other
and this is only part of why
they lay around on floors
Only your voice
like the rigging of sails on seas
it takes its time and it fills me
with the embrace of the blue out here.
The madness of the fish
makes me swim and eat,
makes me get to know the cats
walking the planks and bow.
These cats sit here with me in the sun.
Their chores are done.
Their breath smells as earth and hay.
I move away as the twilight makes paintings
on the water
similar to the philosophical narratives
you often told,
picking your words like a child picking candy
in a candy store back in Scotland.
But when darkness comes to cuddle its
I draw those double-coated cats near
and remember the land, the earth,
so I remember you once loved and your stance
was like the ocean of the North Atlantic
I’ve taken to loving the cats
with all my heart.
They’re the only living, breathing remnant
I have of you.
I tell them I love them at night
in the dark before I go to sleep.
I greet them when I come home and
walk through the door,
regardless how my day was,
I make it a point to talk to them jovially.
Somehow, I think I do these things for you.
Ways of tenderness and lightheartedness
I probably never did enough around you.
I am a devotee these days, a scholar.
I think. I wait. I fast.
The ship has gone out
and not come back from
The mother is the matron
She left me two kittens
to prove my love to the [ matron ]
And I’ll love them with everything
she returns from the Sea