Thursday, February 18, 2010
I think I write this poem every time I turn my life upside down.
Have you ever taken a fork in the road
so fast that you can't slow down
all you can do is speed up
and try to hug the curve?
Have you ever seen a really big dog
standing in the middle of the road
with a transfer truck right behind you
and absolutely no room to swerve?
Have you ever hit the end of a relationship
living on forty minutes sleep in two days
fast finishing your third beer
and contemplating which level of hell you deserve?
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
The new cat Argyle (Arg! for short) is great. He's not my black fluffy cycloptic friend, One Eyed Jack, but he's fluffy & loving & weird. He passed out on the couch with me & at some point I looked down & realized he'd been sleeping with his tongue sticking out. Gotta love him.
Monday, February 15, 2010
What can I say? I LOVE snow & I have a very photogenic dog who takes direction wonderfully. It snowed for about an hour on Sunday - big, fat, fluffy, flakes that made you want to try and catch them on your tongue. I couldn't resist. So I went out & played & then uploaded some more pictures to my Flickr account.
Friday, February 12, 2010
First I played in the snow. Then I played with the photos. I added them to my Flickr account. The photostreams "Snow" & "More Snow" are what I've accumulated the past two weeks. I have truly enjoyed this winter's weather!
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Okay, this whole "posting what I write once a week" thing seems to be working pretty well. So how 'bout we add a whole "posting a picture I take once a week."
Trust me, I am NOT a very good photographer. However, I have started wishing I had more photos that might pair up with some of my writing. So, let's see if this monkey can take enough pictures so that a few of them turn out interesting...
This week's submission: Sexy Suds
There was something simply voluptuous about washing my mugs this morning.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Just a few Bits & Bobs that I never did anything with. Maybe they aren't actually unfinished, maybe they are simple truths that tried to trick me into thinking they were bigger & complicated. Maybe they are snapshots of a moment that can never be elaborated on.
To be Alone
or not to Be.
Standing in a winter field
Listening to the icy silence
In that crystalline moment
You find your Existence.
I don't want to be here
and I hate the smell of fear
I dig at my wounds with my pen
Write these words with my blood
Bury me in a shallow grave
so the wild things may find me
Bury me in a shallow grave
so the earth, it will not bind me
He has had his pound of flesh
Drank his cup of blood
Why add twenty seven tears
To an ebbing flood?
I tripped a Star
just to watch it fall
I guess there's a first time for everything
the second time around!
Ever notice when you're falling
you're feet don't touch the ground?
What if I left?
Shed my life
as though it were a skin too tight.
I worry there is no Other Half,
no Missing Piece,
only the Jagged Edge.
Friday, February 5, 2010
The Dog originally wrote this letter sometime last year. He has decided it is time to address this issue once again. He does not understand why he is being punished.
It has now rained for three and a half months. Please make it stop. Please. The grass is always wet. The dirt is wet. These things make my feet wet. Wet feet make it hard for me to pee. Do you know what else makes it hard to pee? Raindrops. They're distracting. They are usually cold. They are always wet. I like to pee. I have to pee outside (I still don't know why - there was a tree in house for about twenty minutes, but they wouldn't let me pee on it. Not that I tried. I wouldn't do that.) I don't like the rain. My owner likes the rain, but then again she also likes cats. Can you do something about the cats? I guess I should probably talk to Anubis or maybe the Sphinx... The rain. Please to stop the rain. You can have my favorite floss bone.
Wags & Licks,
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
I have found that Chaos flings out the best little bits of odd poetry. The key is getting close enough to catch them without getting caught in the riptide.
right at me
not at me
of a curtain
crooked picture frame
of my soul
in some forgotten corner