Ugly Cat Speaks

Sunday, November 28, 2010


I'm not sure whether my blog title is ironic (since all of my poems here have titles) or just lazy. I'll go with the former since that makes me seem clever. It's only been two weeks since I last posted and have written a good handful of poems (and some others which don't qualify as "good" and won't be included here).  Either I have to write less or post more often.

Enjoy (or don't, I don't really care.)

osmia avosetta
(solitary bee)

petals – soft –yet
dragging in the mud
towards her larvae’s nest
one at a time
pink, yellow, red
all colors she cannot see
delicately placed and
secured with insulating mud
these births will not be shared
with her distant hive cousins
these siblings will be
protected together as they grow
then burst forth  from
mom’s pretty nest
to start their own solitary lives


Afghani Girl

There is no Halloween
In the Middle East
Yet even without
Her ghost costume
She appears to some
A monster of charred flesh
She lied and blamed
The gas stove for
Her failed attempt
But the doctors can tell
- As can we all -
That the pain of death
Was nothing compared
To what she was facing



morning routine

just before the pain
that moment my
body prepares me
my eyes flutter as
if about to dream
fog envelopes my head
I am compelled
to breathe deeply
before the iron spikes
take hold in my gut
clumsily tumbling
through my body
bumping against sensitive
spots – again – and –
again – until – I –
breathe to settle into
the fog which now
comforts me in
feigning ignorance
of the future
I return to normal
for just long enough
to forget that another
wave is coming


free will

as I try to negotiate the world
there is nothing I can control
I can pretend to wave my hands
move a car into another lane or
manipulate someone with my emotions

but that is not control
that is merely influence
ironically – we have endowed
our Creator with the same

He can’t control – instead He
has given it to us – and we –
mirror that external impotence
in our daily lives – except we fail
to grasp the one thing we have
complete autonomy over


my choice

why did I say yes
was it because there was
no reason to say no
or was it because
I wanted
to do this favor
for other reasons
perhaps I saw
an opportunity
for solitude and
personal  errands
not the monotonous
the disruption of
my schedule while
leftovers are
reheated back home

I am cranky, crampy, achy, hungry
and don’t want to be anymore

I write to fight
these feelings
or – more accurately –
relocate them
from my soul
to this page so that
this simmering rage
can be scratched here
rather than scar my heart



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