Eyes turned inward... and a silver cat



12/9/16 A poetry set about introspection and a silver cat

I sound suicidal

yet here I sit,

watching words come

spilling out of my fingertips,

with mute detachment.

I cannot bear

to listen to myself

let alone dig deep into my psyche

to find out 

what the fuck is going on in there.




I sit at the mouth 

of a great cave,

my eyes looking out

like those of children

peeping out from under the covers

or from behind the legs of their mother.

This great open maw,

lit midnight by the blackest of blacks,

waits behind me...

inside the cave is me,

some of me -most of me-

and it isn't that I dare not turn and look...

it is that I simply cannot see.




The silver cat sits

purring in the sun.

Eyes closed to slits,

'tis Peace. Quiet. One.

Its glossy fur shines

Like deepest velvet glows

To disturb it is unwise

Claws, razor, tip its toes!


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