I Am Not A Cat I am not a cat.I cannot stretch, inch by inch(but I try)until my vertebrae are inverted,my head tilted to the sky.I cannot sleepas if sleeping were my only joy,or melt my liquid body intoany welcome dint.I cannot hunt,eyes wide, silent as air,and be deadly to mice,to birds, to flies, asdeadly as a child with solemn intent.I cannot purr.
Route 66: Under Private Skies-Afterward AfterwardWhen sight came, it was as sudden and startling as a biblical revelation. He returned from the lake shivering, clutching Celia in her drenched clothes, staring at everything around him. He found, strangely, that he couldn’t find his way back to the dorms unless he closed his eyes for a moment and thought about the sounds and scents and the feel of the ground beneath his feet. Celia guided him home as much as he guided her.It took him an hour to realise that this sudden influx of light meant that this was no longer his home. He had no place here any more. The joy that had sparked up in his heart began to settle and mingle wit
Route 66: Under Private Skies - Ch 3 3.It was some time before Buz realised that he was shaking. He walked, one hand on Tod’s arm, the other sweeping the cane before him to reassure himself of what was before him, to give him some level of autonomy without Tod having to give him verbal warnings every few minutes. But there was something trapped inside him, some kind of pent up anger or fear, that was making his hands shake as if he were freezing.He had wanted to hit that man. He had wanted to really lamp into him, to get him on the ground, to pummel his fists into him over and over until he had fallen still. He didn’t think it would have mattered if it had been t
Route 66: Under Private Skies - Ch 2 2.The town was a series of noises and sensations that Buz had never truly noticed before. Sure he had heard the swell of music or voices from a radio in a gas station or the chatter of folks in the street – but he had never noticed all the little things. How strongly the gas stank when Tod stopped to fill up. The softer smell of asphalt that had started to warm as midday approached. The little noises of the attendant’s feet shuffling on the gravel-dusted ground and the nozzle clattering against the car, and the sharp difference between a woman’s voice just inside the building and a woman’s voice on the radio nearb
Route 66: Under Private Skies - Ch 1 “For those who lovelive under private skies where stars have mouths and even stones have eyes.” From Even Stones Have Eyes.1.Buz had spent more days than he cared to count in darkness. He had never seen this place that he was now living in. Never seen the faces of the people who taught him and helped him and sheltered him. Never seen the trees that he heard shimmering in the wind or the buildings he used everyday.The last thing he remembered seeing was a flash of the sky filling his vision, and the sun up there, dazzling his eyes. That was it. He didn’t remember being hit and he didn’t remember falling, altho
For the Titanic Our eyes as hollow as deep sea creatures'. We don't look for bones.A hat will do, a boot lodged in silt.There was no journey's end for you.We look with our saucer eyes,and try to bring back life with rusticlesand their relentless progress. We search for decay, because decaymeans rest, our minds confused between hubris and the human soul.So we seek out the Turkish bath,the grand stairwell, the habitats of the vain.We don't want to see the bunks of the lowly.We look for the shark's-tooth tear,for the bulkhead plates, the mahoganyand the lifeboat davits and the pistons andpropellers and chandeliers and clocksand
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. I'm going to send you an invite for my new group.