Concerto for blunt instrument

An irregular heartbeat from d.o. to you. Not like a daily kos, more like a sometime sloth. Fast relief from the symptoms of blogarrhea and predicated on the understanding that the world is not a stage for our actions, rather it is a living organism upon which we depend for our existence.

Friday, January 11, 2019

Cat People

Granny Glime the animal whisperer
her grand nephew the Greenwich Village
artist who painted only cats, except for
the occasional abstract butterfly, then
us, the various progeny, all cat people
tolerating the occasional dog or two
just by happenstance, the same fate
or synchronicity bringing felines into
line with untold worried rodents and
the late night yowling out back hot
New York summer nights and the fights!
Uncle Don knew alley cats the likes
of which would take out rats the size
of breadboxes and who would watch
passersby with highly wary eyes like
those who haunt Dyckman House out
back Inwood by the smokehouse overshadowed
by neighboring buildings and time's
eternal churning where cats are known
to prowl all the way back to some
whisperer who set it all in place, cats
and the human race.


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