From 30 Things

wake up and out
feed cats, close
windows, A/C kicks
on, start coffee

*

breakfast is cold
cereal, OJ, vitamins, bowls
and spoons, sugar,
cream, kitchen light

*

off to work. Refer to
previous post. Scratch at
ankle, knee, last night’s
fresh bites

*

lean back let in
liquid, light. Heat
of day, hours away

*

that’d be fine. Open windows. Night
pours in. Listen. There are cows
close by lowing, closer
cicadas buzz and click. Dog
barks. Cats hiss.

*

Back among familiars
of whatever sort.
The faithful shirt
draped over
the chair

*

Roger, I will get
back to you, I have it
right here, what
to say

*

love in figure
of woman
angry and pretty
computer crashed

*

waving at baptists
in cars as they
pass on their way to Sunday
service, I want to be
last

*

some of these have appeared in the most recent Skanky Possum.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry when I read these. They represent a very simple project I started way back at the beginning of summer, to record more or less what was going on here at Cat Claw Cove.

Didn’t mean to put myself in the picture, but it’s all I could find

I clearly didn’t get very far; it was difficult to maintain the kind of daily attention/obsession that these discrete little poems represent. Now we’re moving in a week or so to a new place. “Nine things” just doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.