the tiny tail wags
from a puppy who sees a cat
whom she hopes to befriend,
and the larger tail whips
from a cat who isn’t necessarily mad,
but definitely doesn’t want this friendship
as much
as the dog
wants it
and we poor humans
no tails to show our emotions
we must rely on (unreliable) facial expressions
and (unexpressive) english words.
poor
us.
the cat is exploring
the downstairs
once more
the first time(s)
since the puppy arrived
she’s finally comfortable enough
to be in the same floor level
as the spastic young dog
but only because
the dog is
all crated up
what will happen with the puppy has free reign
of the downstairs
again?
the cat
has her zoomies
up and down the upstairs hall
back and forth
from bathroom to
under-the-bed
and we
(below the galloping stomps and stomping gallops)
ask
“is she having more zoomies than usual?”
“isn’t she a senior cat now?”
“is she maybe training to play with the puppy
once the puppy is all healed
and is allowed to play once more?”
i hope hope hope hope hope
the answer to that last question
is yes
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.)
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
)
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
how are we
already
halfway through May?
(i blinked and April was gone)
but nothing will ever compare
to 2020
and the collective pressing of time
lasting forever;
that March that took
approximately eight years
to pass
and past that
i honestly don’t remember
anything
until June
(it was all March, you see)
i joke that
“time is a mortal construction”
because of a show i was in
(i was going to say once,
but technically it was twice)
and 2020 really showed us
how much of our society
really goes in to
how we perceive
the passage
of time
(and the abolishing of dst this year
did nothing to help the case
of time being anything near
concrete)
(i read once
that the only true marker
that we have
for time passing
is entropy,
all the rest of it
is simply our
perceptions,
so…)
~~~
why
do i
constantly fall into the trap
of thinking that
i don’t deserve
a “big
ol’
breakthrough”™
in my depression
if i’m not at
rock
bot-
tom
?
i’ve looked back at times
in my life
in my time
with this struggle
that seem pretty near,
but i recall clear
as day and night
are far apart
that those particular times
felt like i could always go
farther
down
depression
looks different
for different
people
so why can’t i get it through
my tick-ass skull
that rock bottom
would look different
for me
than other people?
i am not in a place
of rock bottom now,
that i can guarantee
to you and to me,
but i do feel plateaued
in a way i’ve felt
for years and years and—
–i also shouldn’t fall into the trap
of thinking that a plateau
deserves breakthroughs
any less
than a drop past the
“point of no return”™
so why
do i
find excuses
in every place
i find myself?
~~~
the puppy
wants so badly
to be friends with the cat
she sits
as calmly as her little puppy muscles can muster
and waits
for a sign of friendship
the cat, on the other hand,
simply hisses
and growls
and hides
and sighs
as the dog takes that all as signs
that the cat is conversing
and she excitedly talks back
in whining yips
and barking excites
‘come play with me!’
she seems to say
‘let’s be friends! please!? pleeeeeease!?!?!’
but the cat
is already
halfway
up the stairs
to hide just out of plain sight
or tuck herself deep under the bed
and the dog still whines
and climbs on the couch
to wait for her to show her face
in another hour or two
and the puppy whines start up again
and the hisses too,
and i hope one day
they do
actually
become friends
but today that seems…
damn near impossible
most mornings
as i write my silly morning poems
i have a cat
on my lap.
since the new puppy’s arrival,
the cat has avoided all points of potential contact
and not set foot in the entire downstairs area,
save for moments when the pup is
well caged away
(crate and gates and the like)
but even then,
a cat paw on the main floor
is a rare sight indeed
theses days
so instead
of a cat on my lap
i must write this poem
with a dog by my side
barely touching
but still comforting
to have her there
as a reminder
that there are creatures around this house
(human and non)
when i get so lonely
hanging out with
just my own words…
kipventures 