Wordplay:

cadillac attack

a tacky black
bric-a-brac
hacky sack jack
cracked a track
along its back
with a clackety-clack
it hacked
and packed
and stacked
and whacked a pact
with alacrity shacked
it smacked
and snacked
and sneered right back
as a matter of fact
it was
a cadillac attack

—
temet nosce

This was written as an expression of a direct experience with an end to the cycle of a life.

Tika

Tika died
in my hands today
as I cupped
her fragile feathered form
against my hollowed out
and roaring chest
praying
every rapid thump
could beat prolonged life
throughout her ailing frame
as it inched away
with every shiver
of her speckled claws

for a fleeting moment
she stirred
resolute in spirit
gracing me with a gift
of a glimpse
of a soul
of a life
having filled my empty bowl

my mind was keenly aware
of her serious condition
imminently fatal
but i wished nonetheless
for an illness
for it could pass
her claws gingerly scratched
my fingers while
her little legs twitched
several times
her tail, only once
and the spittle
gushing from her beak
was not enough
to convince me
she was gone

—
Temet Nosce

An exercise in composition (written with tongue firmly planted in my cheek):

—

My other half and I agreed on getting a cat at a certain time and after meeting a condition designed to improve its environment as well as ours. She interpreted this agreement as meaning we would immediately get the cat… and so I returned home one day, fairly soon after making this agreement, to discover a new female member of my family.

She had been recovered from a rescue clinic and was quite traumatized by her first few weeks in this world. She was discovered hidden behind a tub in the bathroom caring for her new siblings. I later discovered that the sound of a grocery cart rolling made her jump and run in abject fear. I surmised it was the sound made by the original caretaker returning home to continue drowning her family in the toilet.

She was quite sick for the first few days and we both doted on her completely. A completely alien experience had transformed her existence from cowering in fear to a cold cell with noises beyond comprehension, to a relatively quiet place of mystery. Nothing that immediately threatened her life appeared to be present after three days of hiding in a variety of enclosed dark areas and so she began coming out to explore in the open.

On the fourth day of her recovery, I returned home to find a new ‘kitty condominium’ had been delivered and this was a new kind of heaven to her. What began as a tiny cotton-ball hanging upside down from the dangling ball of twine has become a fully-grown adult curling up in one of its compartments. This has been without doubt our wisest investment for her to date.

As I’ve come to know her well from working out of my home, I’ve seen many a variety of moods and expressions, all providing for me a means of communication where I can understand what she wants. She has taught me well for I’ve come to witness and recognize many that are distinctively clear. What follows are some of my observations and interpretations of her behaviour:

1. Give me ALL of your attention, NOW.
I, if not responding as quickly as desired, am reminded of this request on an insistent basis, either by scratching my chair or jumping in front of my face and staring until I do something about it, to tapping on and getting her claws trapped on whatever portion of my anatomy is closest to her.

2. OH…. That’s Wonderful, Do it some more.
Her favourite seems to be the double back-scratcher. This is when I drag my fingers in a claw position down her back hand over hand. When she turns her head to look, her eyes are half-closed in bliss.

3. OK, That’s ENOUGH. STOP.
Once I exhaust her interest level sufficiently, she begins to withdraw, slowly at first and if I’m not paying close enough attention to this change, am reminded of it by degree. Usually, I’m able to tune in by the time she starts moving away, instead of in and toward the scratching.

If I’m being particularly dense, I learn to be more attentive in future as a result of the scratches I have to nurture for a couple of days following.

4. DON’T Touch Me!
If she’s walking by in this mood, her back can sag at any point along it that may be affected by my hand as it approaches. I can almost feel the magnetic force of my hand as it repulses her to the point where it seems her belly is pressed ground-ward by the invisible force on her back.

5. Can’t You Do ANY better?
“Ya, yer giving me what I want, but it’s only because I’m doing YOU a favour… so, come on…. put a little effort into it, will ya?”

What more can I say about this phenomenon?

6. TREAT? Now that’s what I want to hear!
Say the magic word to make her ears pop and instantly bring her to full attention. Shake that familiar-sounding container and she’ll come running out of hiding.
However, if she’s too caught up exploring taboo territory while on a full belly though, is the only instance where this can fail and one in which it can be almost impossible to capture her attention.

7. SURE! I’ll Have A Snack, too.
If I’M eating, so is she, dammit! She will do whatever it takes to present her case and starts out with friendly requests. If I don’t respond correctly, she will plant herself directly in my field of view and stare at me until I do.

Her expression will change from feigned disinterest to agitation and disgust over the length of a time determined by a corresponding level of her desire.

8. So… Where are WE going?
If I put my coat on when she’s restless, she will guard the door until it opens. If she’s not sure of her interest, she will decide after being halfway out for a while. If she has no interest, I don’t see her anywhere nearby.

9. NOT YET!
I’ve learned to recognize when she’s decided she wants to return indoors, usually only a few seconds are required, enough to allow her to feel in control when she does comply.

If I don’t remember to keep the balcony door open long enough for her to decide if she wants to join me outside, she will stand up pressing her entire body against the glass until I notice her.

When returning indoors, at times; she’ll be ready before I am and is poised waiting for the smallest crack to open and allow ingress. She is the only cat I’ve known that will, when she feels like it, respond to a verbal request.

Many times I like to simply sit and watch her as an expression of nature unfold in front of me. A live theatre event personally performed for my own benefit. Her expressions are many and varied; from the multi-staged positioning of her ears attuned to adjusting priorities arising from a surrounding environmental aural chaos to the manner in which she daintily holds her paw in a practiced pose amidst a mid-step.

I’ve often entertained the thought that if I were able to provide a larger space to allow her more freedom of movement, I would get a male cat in order to provide a counter-point to my observations. I often wonder how much of her behaviour is characteristic of her species and how much is an expression of her gender.

When such moments of reverie are shattered however, by a penetrating scream in the form of a command such as “SHUT THE DOOR“, I smile inwardly with a comforting knowledge that some things will never be the same.

Perhaps the only thing that all of this truly means is that we’ve simply just gotten to know each other.

—
Temet Nosce

This was written as a celebration of moments of inspiration.

to dance a song of cliché

amidst the grand, elaborate ball
in the courtyard of aspiration,
movement is advancement
change is up and out

distinguished by awakening and
a release from bonds of limitation
freedom from a trapped imagination
freedom from a negative fixation

it captures a dream and renders it asunder
it is a taught coil, sprung to attention
luring questions with ravenous passion

i face an inspiration and i ask,
can it soothe emancipation
can it prove to grow and bloom
during winters of deprivation?

myriad lights sparkle my vision,
flashing moments of beauty
spanning uncountable ages
as tiny flickers radiating
within the marrow of my soul

i dream a dream where i am
knitting the seam to a fabric
carded and spun in an ancient tradition
by unknown hands
intricately woven with delicate precision

i submit to a stream of images
fluid in orientation
jarring into brilliant focus,
i have grown to know inspiration.

taking the form of possibilities
images from unknowable futures
flowing as a release
from an illumination
where its source knows no description

—
Temet Nosce

This piece was written when contemplating how certainty in life grows from hindsight. It is an attempt to capture a moment of appreciation for the value of introspection.

preludes

by searching one’s past
to find a common denominator,
one inevitably arrives at mud
which must be sifted
through a fine screen

after many tries
one can always find something.
tiny glittering bits of sand
can sparkle amusement.
bright nuggets can illuminate joy
while large, glistening diamonds
can spur on tears
echoing sorrow
for a long forgotten whole
now undone

during life’s journey
one learns either to burn
or to reverently flare.

one learns to believe
deceit can be made sweet
or the pain of rain
reveals authentically arranged
patterns of stains
demarcating changing gains

by searching one’s past
with clarity as a master,
one can find such a task
may bring treasures to mind
the likes of which
pirates will forever dream
and never find

—
Temet Nosce