Tag: Poetry
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18.4: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat Responds to Weirdness – (Kitchen Liturgy in a Minor Key) the cat surveys the wreckage—the aftermath of the old woman’s latest experiment: a waffle iron etched with runesand muttering Latin conjugations under its breath;a blender full of salt,sarcasm,and the ghost of Tuesday’s regret;a spoon caught in an existential spin cycle. “this,” the cat…
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17.04: The Old Woman With No Cat
About The Old Woman Without a Cat The Old Woman Receives Three Cheers(A Kitchen Liturgy) the old womancatches her wordsin her cupped palms— a warmthshe can’t quite name,like finding a forgotten cookiein the pocketof last winter’s coat. the neighbor’s cat(now a licensed emotion translator)purrs the messageinto Morse code: dot dot dash—you. matter. comma. the crow,ever…
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15.04: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman’s Onions and The Last Supper I. THE KNIFE’S CONFESSIONthe old woman knowsthe knife’s dull protest,the way timesoftenseven the sharpestedges. II. THE PAN’S TESTIMONYthe onions sizzle,a soundlike whispering. the cast ironremembersevery mealit’s ever murdered— now it sighs,licks its own scars,and calls the old womanyes chef. she stirs the onionsslowly,as if tendernesscan be cookedinto…
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13.04: The Old Woman With No Cat
Old Woman Explains “Full” to the Cat The cat parades in,feathers stuck to its grin like party confetti,the robin’s tail danglinglike an unpunctuated sentence. Drop it, says the old woman.The cat blinks, Make me. So she tries philosophy:“Full is when your belly is a bowl,and your soul stops licking the spoon.” The cat licks a…
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09.04: The Garden of Ordinary Apocalypses
The Garden of Ordinary Apocalypses “The Old Woman Wakes the Crow”(an ekphrastic poem after Caspar David Friedrich’s painting “The Tree of Crows/Raven Tree,”) The crow’s nightmare was this:a tree split open like a ribcage,its branches—vertebrae of dusk,its roots clutching a bellthat only rings for roots. “Hush,” says the old woman,peeling a lychee with her knife.“You’ve…
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06.04: The Old Woman Without a Cat
About The Old Woman Without a Cat The Old Woman and the Spiral Eyes the old woman with no cat—her vision unwinds itselflike a cassette tape left in the rain—the world smudges, blooms,becomes an impressionist’s afterthought. rest your rebel eyes, says the cat,knocking over her reading glassesfor the third time today.(it claims it’s helping.) she…
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02.04: The Old Woman Without a Cat
More About The Old Woman Without a Cat The Old Woman With No Cat and the Crow the old woman with no catsits in her wicker chair,spring sunlightwarming her bones, arranged like kindlingwaiting for warmth from a match. a crow hops across the lawn,its feathers oil-slick black,a hole in the world’s brightness, one foot, then…
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01.04: The Old Woman Without a Cat
The Old Woman Without a Cat the old woman with no cat sitson the garden step in perfect past tense,next to daffodils that are going papery dry and swollen with seeds. she knows she should snap off theirlittle dead heads, leave them headless as if she were a protagonistin a nursery rhyme, but instead she…
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26.03: Let the Last Breath Linger
Prosery: Let the Last Breath Linger some memories, like thin bells,vanishing, a song faint and low. A summer of being. Thirteen. Surrendering my mornings to the public library—piles of books, biblichor, waiting quiet as secrets. Quiet as a librarian’s finger to her lips: shush. I devoured the Dewey Decimal System. It became a fiery furnace…
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18 March: dVerse Prosery
And in the end,” she said… It’s my eleventh year, far from home, but oddly, I’m at home here—twilight in the garden, the sky open wide to a single star. It’s summer; I often sleep on the porch, and she says, “It’s not what we may be, it’s what we are.” …
It's Still Life 