A Feral Letter to a Stray Friend

Bob, , ,

We should begin with
The moon, have your cat draw
The circle and its glow and its marred
Demeanor. Why don’t we stop
For some tea and enrich ourselves
On the rain-smell of the coming storm?
When the cat has finished,
And the moon is just right, and over the rooftops,
We will draw up evacuation plans
But they will all be forgeries
Splendidly like puddles or these
Journal entries. Truth be told,
The cosmos is a drum roll not unlike the smell
Of lilac,
The cosmos is also a strummed guitar the color
Of a lonesome whistle.
We should finish our evening by returning to
The moon, where we left it, have your car draw
It being swallowed by our sun
Now a red giant.

18 thoughts on “A Feral Letter to a Stray Friend”

  1. Wow, from the title on into the poem, what a tribute to the moon! I’ve been told by a friend how beneficial, for one day anyway, it is to wake up and see the moon just before sunrise and to do it as much as possible as a sort of reminder of where we are – floating in outer space. It is bizarre and wonderful that there is a moon at all. “The cosmos is a drum roll” will stay with me, probably forever as every day is so damn different. It’s an incredible line! Great work, as usual, Bob.

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    1. Thank you Steve. I like that reminder that we are in outer space. That’s a good meditation. Really puts things in perspective. I’m glad you liked that line. And I like how you say, everyday is different. Really trying to pay attention to all the details, how things change from day to day, season to season.

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      1. It’s really wild when you think about space being all around us and not just above and then all the universes and galaxies and what not. Like you say, “it puts things in perspective.”

        I never understood that expression “same shit, different day.” I forget what philosopher said -we never step in the same water twice, but that makes more sense.

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  4. Your poem feels like a mix of here to there… Here, we have some close pleasures: tea, an artistic cat, the “rain-smell.” (All of which are wondrous.) There, we have the cosmos and possible disasters. (Also wondrous, but feeling more abstract — at least to me.) And your poem well manages to keep them together, offering us each to ponder.

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