RED CRESTED POET
Forty years after the last poem
burned on the altar of atonement
for the sin of having written
like a girl, she stands before
a crowd of welcoming readers
writers like-minded poets.
Rusty voiced she tells of
doorkeepers with feet
seven armlengths long
who keep paparazzi at bay.
Dead quiet room.
Next she reads a tale
called Unrequited Love
that sears the air with
violence and Amazonian
resistance. Applause.
Bolstered, the red-crested
poet carries on with fare
suited to the palate of
this blood-thirsty claque
feeding them with fugues
obsessions, and thwarted
suicide.
The poet and audience
are sated.
We finish with the one
with violets in her lap.
Friday cat blogging
-
I asked whether it would be okay to take a snap of the bookstore cat.
"Oh, yes. Visitors do that all the time," said the clerk.
The animal slept on, next...
2 hours ago
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