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Stray Cats
processing some whimsical
sense
i tipped my head and all the
words fell out
leaving only imaged poems
after a while
they came back the words came back
like stray cats remembering the saucer of
milk
and now they stay
to have words back how does it feel? better
though a bit tangled even so
they seem appropriate and fitted
writing has become whatever it becomes
letters fall wherever they do
puzzling their increasing numbers
gathering in crowds
words and layers
color and shape
tune and
dance
all bow and circle and look away
as the newly acquainted often do
i say to color and shape and word
stop!
i am not ready
i do not know how to look at this that
which stays like adopted cats
