you’d think the cat,
being feline,
would attack the yarn
as it lay
open season
atop the lap tops–
but no
it was the crochet hook
waiting next to the yarn ball
parallel to the open end
that this hassle decided
was the appropriate cat toy
for this evening.
oh, and now it’s the apple pencil…
but why, cat, why?
puppies up
Kips awake
cats a-hassling
a morning
a day
here in our
little haunted home
the puppy
plays with her ball
not a care in the world
meanwhile
the cat
cares deeply
about the food
that has yet to be
hand-delivered
to her
the puppy
and the cat
are not mortal enemies
they may, in fact
simply be
frenemies
(though,
perhaps
that’s all from the cat’s
perspective
the puppy
100% believes
they’re besties
or at least could/should be.)
oh to be a puppy
happily chewing a faux bone
no cares in this world
but what to do if it gets lost
under a couch
oh to be a cat
content to sleep all day
and chase ghosts all night
and lay down all comfy
in whatever lap
she decides
wants her
oh to be a summer storm
rolling in to a parched land
thankful of the temperature-lowering powers
it brings with it
dropping rain
and giving an excellent light show
and changing the air pressure
for a time
oh to be anything but human
in late stage capitalism
here at this point in history–
the crossroads of
‘will we start caring
as a community
or will we let the world
burn?’
to be
on the cusp
of knowing who you are
but still fearing the unknowns
of changes
to your
body
mind
and soul
how dare this internalized
trans-phobia,
the lies and terrorizing from the cis-stem,
affect me this deeply
(and in my Pride month, no less!)
~~~
the puppy’s tail pulsates,
swinging wildly back and forth,
as she barely contains her glee
in a well-trained sit;
‘wait’
the cat stares,
meows,
then damn near head-butts the dog
with love,
but still hisses
(instinctually?)
someday
they will
be friends.
~~~
it’s mornings like this
when my mind feels blank
that i wonder if it’s actually good for me
to write
and write
and write and write and write
until i find something to say,
or if it would better serve me
to let the morning go
‘to waste’
and write later in the day
when things have inspired my mind
to think things through
and the creative process
is finally flowing…
what
do you
think?
puppies
playing
in the morning
the joy
it brings
me
gnaw on that rope!
chase that bouncy kong!
harass that hasslecat!
(the world is your dog park)
~~~
commotion:
the morning;
the coffee.
~~~
the promoting
of shows
always
stresses me
the buttz
out
(
https://www.eventbrite.com/e/aerial-arts-nyc-iaw-showcase-tickets-358998302587
if you want to zoom
in
)
we’ve repurposed a large tupperware container
into where we put all the pieces of paper
and threads of former toys
computer has ripped through
with her sharp puppy teeth
and we call it her art collection
and i love it
we also have
two of her puppy teeth,
molars that fell
outside
rather than down the throat,
and we’re thinking of putting them
in her art jar as well
because she did make them
and they are
art
~~~
the puppy has learned
that the top of the soft crate
can help her see
over the room-fence-divider,
and also
can keep her cool
on hot summer days
(now to see how long
the zippered canvas
will hold her weight
as she grows…)
~~~
Louka
was cat-like
in the way that she was
not very dog-like
Computer
is very cat-like
in many mannerisms
and play-approaches
and active qualities
(the passive
and the active
cat-like qualities)
(meanwhile our cat
is more monkey
than any other creature,
so…)
sometimes, you need the break,
and sometimes the break needs you,
and every now and then
you need each other,
and that
is a beautiful day
(if you listen)
~~~
what is it about the stardew valley
wintertime
music
that feels so sad
and desolate
and cold
and hopeful
and magical
and pleasant
and soft
and exciting
and new
every time i listen?
every time i play?
~~~
puppy whines
cat hisses
communication:
solid misses
what is it about
lying next to a cat
that lulls me to sleep
faster
than just forcing myself to bed?
~~~
at least
being in my childhood bedroom
and gazing upon my
most-loved books
has reminded me that
it’s not just in adulthood
that i’ve found comfort in the
already known storyline
and re-consuming media
over and over and over again
(certain copies
of certain books
can attest to the fact that
i consumed them
over
and over
and over again
before i even hit puberty)
~~~
the internet
in this house
is struggling
almost as much as my sinuses
are fighting
to do their job well
(could the dust be blocking the wifi
like it’s blocking my nose???)
