Tag Archives: poetry

Their memories are what give them the need for other hands.

A poem I heard once spoken aloud by its author– for this rainy Brooklyn night. As my Camera Coon would say, be well. Wait by Galway Kinnell Wait, for now. Distrust everything, if you have to. But trust the hours. … Continue reading

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Written Yesterday, for Today.

We are passengers in the middle of this bus, headed back east through snow dusted rock cuts in a long line of cars that grows in number as we pass each exit. We are returning from a long holiday hiatus … Continue reading

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When I Should be Working

I am instead munching peanut butter toast, listening to Law & Order, walking south with Pulp in my ears, watching my rainy reflection pass in the windows of hair salons and green grocers, chopping vegetables for elaborate omelettes, guessing the … Continue reading

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Breaking News, in the form of a poem.

Oh man, this is going to jump ahead several steps in line. We’ve all seen my cat-related childhood writing sample(r)s. Well, today my brother (mon bon croissant fromage frere) sent along another gem, lost to the ages until Momcat recovered … Continue reading

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time to say goodbye

well, i was beginning to think this day just wouldn’t come. but, dear blogging public, my ancient old grey lady computer seems to have bit the proverbial dust. after over five years of dedicated and surprising service, we must all … Continue reading

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In Memory

Over three months ago, the world lost a great friend. Sunday Best Reading Series wrote a particularly squish-inducing tribute to Phil, which includes the statement from friend and collaborator Martin Mitchell, praising the late poet’s “incisive, illuminating comprehension of everyday … Continue reading

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Chance of a Ghost

This one is in memory of a great and wonderful man– Phillip Miller. Thank you, Roy, for copying this down for us. It is appreciated by all. From all of us, to you, Phil. What the Cat Would Tell Us … Continue reading

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Zee Elusive Sad Girl

Cats and poetry go together like peas and carrots. (“Jenn-aye.”) Perhaps it’s because they are so often linked by that crucial variable—the sad girl. The sad girl conducts a life wrought with wackiness and painful sentiment. She dons gobs of … Continue reading

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