all cats look the same

18 May

you squeeze from all sides
until everything goes out of focus
and all cats begin to look the same
like fused multi-colored play doh
shaped by little hands little fingers
ninety cents will buy you a small bag of Cheez-its
from the machine
and this is how you live
until the next bag
and the next
and then the cancer
and then the question marks
of what caused what
and when
and how can it be fought

she says: I wish I could give you time
(that’s all)
I can’t read too deeply into that
does she not have extra?
does she not have the power?
has she run out of wishes?

there are places to which I’ll never return
and there are places to which I’ll return but won’t stay
you can’t go home
because there is no home

she says: it’s only right for you to be buried
in your own continent
among the rest of the Romans and Etruscans
strip away the immediate
sentimentality and melancholy of that
and I’m left thinking: one day it’ll be nice
to fertilize an olive grove
and that’s what I’ll have them put
on my tombstone


11 Responses to “all cats look the same”

  1. DAMM 18/05/2011 at 8:31 AM #

    This is a little different than most of your writing that I have read, same voice though. I like the line “strip away the immediate…of that” Thanks for sharing this.

  2. Lx 18/05/2011 at 8:36 AM #

    It seems. But there is stuff like this peppered throughout the material on here…going years back. I have many different moods and there are many days ahead. I think. This is why this site is important to me. It’s not really a “blog.” It’s my notebook paper. I can look back through the archives (which I don’t usually) and see where in life I was at certain times. I make no apologies for anything that goes on here; nor am I uncertain about any of the material. Thanks for reading constantly. Can’t do it without you. All of you.

  3. Bridget 18/05/2011 at 8:52 AM #

    I don’t know if its the fucking fog, but this got to me, which is impressive since last night I was vowing that I hate poetry more than anything else in the world except maybe murder and Rod Stewart.

  4. Lx 18/05/2011 at 8:55 AM #

    B, I really don’t write poetry. This isn’t really poetry. Just some strange prose. I’m glad it resonated. But if it did in a bad way, I’m not telling you where I live.

  5. valerie 18/05/2011 at 10:17 AM #

    i prefer sky burials.

  6. Christine Swendseid 18/05/2011 at 11:24 AM #

    What’s uncanny is that this one resembles what I am writing in a way…kind of similar depth of field. It’s really haunting, and I like that.

  7. Lx 18/05/2011 at 11:32 AM #

    Hey you, are you still reading the drivel on this site? I do believe you’ve been a consistent reader for 7 years now. Man, you are persistent! Cheers.

  8. Christine Swendseid 18/05/2011 at 7:25 PM #

    Dude, I am nothing if not a loyal reader. It’s all about watching your writing develop, mature, and all that. Or I could just be a tad OCD creepy. Your call, man. But yeah, 7 years. We should throw a party or something…

  9. Robb 20/05/2011 at 7:49 PM #

    Seems like a poem to me, and I hate 99% of poetry but I like this. “Olive grove.” But make sure you are not buried in a casket or you will not be useful as fertilizer. People can chop me up and have a BBQ if they like. That might actually be fun. Mmm. BBQ! (I should have mentioned that this is only acceptable after I am dead, or almost dead.)

  10. Ismail Kamel 22/05/2011 at 11:10 AM #

    I agree with Valerie

  11. Lx 23/05/2011 at 8:23 AM #

    Mike, I merely wanna give back to the trees that have made my life more tolerable. Cheers! Stay safe.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: