Saturday, June 17, 2017

I feel like I'm chasing cats ( 6WS)

I feel like I'm chasing cats
that refuse to come in at dark.
Every inducement falls flat
and there is no special food,
no honeyed tone or stern command,
to force a cat--or a poem--
to come when called.
You have to wait it out
listen for the scratch at the door
that says, it's cold, it's raining,
let me in.
And sometimes
leaving it out all night
in the dark
is the only thing that works.



  1. Sometimes you know one is out there (you can see it's tail, or the shadow of it's tail) and, because you're so comfortably ensconced in bed, you decide to wait him out, let him in first thing in the morning but, when you wake up early to do so, you realize you can't recall whether he was out there at all, let alone even the slightest details about his appearance. It's sad, eh?

    1. And maddening. When I have one cooking like that I try to get the lines down, 3 am or not, but sometimes it's just drifting through your last dream and when you wake up all you remember is "break" and "pewter" and then nothing.

      There is a sound that goes with that kind of loss, I think if it were loud enough it would call whales.

      And we both know those were the best poems we never wrote...

  2. Hah! Our cat only gets to go out on a leash- we live in the Northern mountains of Mt Shasta California and the bears, cougars, coyotes and other predators would get her for sure!
    Have a lovely week!

  3. I know that feeling of the best work evading us no matter whether we butter its paws. But I also find​ that the best work dictates to you, and won't let go till you've understood and got it! That's how mine works. So I rationalize that the artworks that didn't come clear and lively were maybe not meant to be.

    1. And of course with any artwork, there is revision and revision and more revision so that often (as Ive seen in your work and mine as well) what we start with is often just the germ of an idea, eventually. It was the hook to get us started.
      But the part that really annoys me, is the place where you wake up from a dream of having written or created the most amazing structure, and by the time you find your glasses and the paper and the pen the idea has just turned to sand.
      It may come back another time, I do like to think of it that way, but I suspect what you miss, stays missed.