Old House Made Of River Stone

  
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
Fort Worth.
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
boy cat
there
in that old house
made of river stone.
I could call out in the southern
darkness
and they would answer me
and come lay by my side through
the night
until the morning sun turned the air
into that phosphorescent tone
of orange and white.

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My Cat The Physicist

  
I remember the thousand
afternoons
with her
made
so obviously
from star dust and rivers
and the tallgrass
of Texas

when she meowed
I did hear the mischievy
of the Big Bang
you know
the thing hearing itself as itself
you
me
these are words you’re reading
right now
in this place in time

I guess you’re on a planet
but it’s possible a space vessel
or
in the plasma of a supernova

information as matter
and matter as information
the Pinky Da Principle

What Made This Eternal

pinky-sun

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
kitty cat
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
and lost
the delicate and vulnerable souls
that
I have loved.

These afternoons between time
can never be repeated.
They are outside the script of
fragile acceptance

whose acknowledgement
has made me eternal.

Kittens In Radiation

kittens-in-radiation

Gravity has the doors
most everyone ignores

except kittens
who lay on floors

they breathe in this stuff
in daydreams

Everyone wonders what they do
with those eyes

A million point five years
of seeing wave frequencies

the things
that go in those special
gravity special doors

and make worlds recycle
like Christian forgiveness

computers tossed into pure
radiation

Kittens move to kiss each other

and this is only part of why
they lay around on floors

On Once Loved The Ocean

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
chilly bones
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

The Kitten Love Scholar

the kittens

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.