Cat at Work

Every other blue moon
Grumpy, unsociable Grace
Without any warning leaps
On my lap and nuzzles my face
Curls up on the keyboard
With a yawn and a scoff
Falls asleep on top my work
And purrs the deadlines off.

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Pole Dancer, for Mona

cinnabar and carbon inked flesh
riots under spots and strobes
becomes shards of sheet lightning
snow flurries around the pines
as barrages of an incessant bass
drives her up the pole and carves
her face with a hurt indelible
as rings on a stump of birch

Underdogs Undertake


Underdogs live for undersides:
Supine and swearing beneath a car
Nosing in computer innards
Crawling beneath the house
For leaks or a dead mouse.

Only we understand
The zen of crawl spaces
The ying of fried wires
The yang of a lost rebate
The tao of gouged knuckles
The virile taste of 30 weight.

As Joe Goethe always says,
“What we do not understand,
We do not possess.”