If I were the Pussycatand Hewereme, I wonder exactlyhow thatwouldbe. I might sit,contented,my own simple businessto mind and,suddenly,find my whole self lifted in air,to be cheek by jowland ear pressed to ear. I’d struggle,push, lean,and rathernot be there but I’d have nothing to fear. All powerful,the Pussycat’dhave no reason to be mean, I’d feel lovedandContinue reading “Me, Pussycat, God”
Tag Archives: love
A Clockwork
Who sips,when droughtis done and cups are fullagain?Even childbirth lies forgottenatthe scent of summer’slilacdrifting in. Bury both lips deepand soon as you can.Ignore what dribblesdown the chin,it isn’t wasted. Sky, in metered time,revisits trembling blue.What spills from thisand sunlight’s offeringis tastedby earth anew.
Sunday, At Church
It is raining.Tiny brown/grey birds(I believe they are sparrows)huddle under eaves next door.A dirty and thirsty one hop/flies upfor a drink and quick bath atthe metal trough above him/her whilethe rest stare into a slanted downpour,perhaps thinking private thoughts.They are waiting for the rain to stop,possibly chatting with each otherin the way that birds mustContinue reading “Sunday, At Church”
Robert On The Air 