Husband hurries home
Where winsome wife is waiting
Holding a striped cat.
Pages from the past
Turn to a new medium
A digital death.
Baring your soul
Through clues in your handwriting
Inevitable.
Simple wooden stick
That holds so many stories
It will never tell.
Each arriving train
Promising to bring my love
Pours out empty crowds.
Dreams have no power
But that which we allow them
Neither do nightmares.
Pithily-packed thoughts
If they were to be unwrapped
Would fill volumes.
Smirking cat sleeping
Atop unread newspapers
Knows more than you think.
A simple house cat
May seem lazy and stupid
But who waits on whom?
Maybe creation
Blinks in and out of being
When we are asleep.
Sleep is like a rat
That scurries across my chest
When I least expect.
Cymbals held ready
The thunder patiently waits
For the signal flash.
Photographers camp
Those spies with their black boxes
They don't belong here.
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