i wish i could draw
cat crawled into
a lattice of clematis
on the porch
not invisible ,not
hidden from the sun , but
unnoticeable, and fat, and shaded
from above. My love for her
and the long thread-brown stems
she has found her way
into a cylinder of , and
the sun, and the way she
can't quite get her face comfortable
these; i wish i could draw , b
cause no photo could show you
on the cedar planks in shifting s un
how she did it
thanks, odd! welcome aboard.
Thanks for having me. If 'Add' is a deficit of attention, what's 'odd'?
Unusual among my poems, I may actually fool with this one later. There's one word I might change - plus, I wish I could somehow play a mental film of the cat slowly going inside the clematis in the hot hot sun with the smell of roasting cedar and the buzzing quiet of the light - I just ain't got the tools. Usually I work in a more abstracted space. Perhaps I should focus on life studies a bit, see if I'm any good at it, grow some mental muscles for it. Anyway - thanks again. Talk to ya -
There's also a short/novella I've been backburnering for so long I can smell the charcoal. I may try to scrape it, slap it, thin it with some milk, put in a pinch of sugar and try it on you guys. Be warned.
(imagines his mental kitchen as a huge hall, filled with back burners and bubbling pots)
God, I hate cooking. I love writing, though, and I love the smells and objects and sounds of cooking (make beef bourgignon right some day, it's like a hundred still life pictures and two hundred dirty platters go into the dish). Hmmm. I hate cooking after twenty-five years working in kitchens. I still like writing, and I've been doing it longer. I guess I should have taken a life lesson sooner.
"odd" was a typo! i meant "old" like old 333! sorry about that!
i look forward to your novella.
Welcome, fellow cat appreciator!
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