But do you not realize how  
Littered
You are, with so much  
Time–              

               Still,  
You choose to waste it

Yet time will always lick
Our wounds
Given the time, for us to heal

               We are
           Time's litter.

Five mischievous little kittens
sitting on high chairs, waiting to drink milk.
The large blue bottle of
blue, blue milk spills over the table
–wasted blue milk.
A little indecision, but
all the kittens try to clean the mess they created.
The Sun sleeps at last, after a long, blue day. Sleep, my little one.
You can rest, too, now.

I'm not surprised anymore by
the extraordinary.
When life bombards
me with trivialities, and
ordinary events,
something always happens to
jolt me from my lethargy.

"Bukowski **** on
the training pads!"
My brother yells, from
the dining room.
I'm living with my
brother, and
we have two
black kittens, Mojo and
Bukowski.
They bring me
hours of smiles.
I've never seen
eyes so full of
trust and adoration.

Bukowski has an
aversion to the litterbox.
We have tried everything.
When I put him in,
he jumps out like it's
a muddy pond.

His brother Mojo adores
the litter box.
Not only does he do
his business, he also
plays and sleeps there on
occasion.
We've started with
the training pads and
newspapers.
It's working.
Amidst all the destruction,
hate, and chaos in the
world, I'm eaten up by
the magic of the ordinary.

I talk to them as
they doze in the
afternoon sun.
"Thank you boys,
you got me going again,
Mojo, you broke the
dry spell."
They blink, and
Bukowski licks his
brother's head.

My landlord gave
me two black kittens.
Little ***** of fluff.
I sent pictures to
my sister.
She said they have
eye infections, and not
to use hydrogen peroxide,
because it will blind them.
The thought never crossed
my mind.  I thanked her.
They are semi-feral,
but they are warming right
up to domestication.
I was like that too.
I enjoy my simple  life now.
Fishing and writing, I take
vitamins and clean cat ****
off my bed.
We are working on the
concept of the litter box.
I play classical music for them.
They like Vivaldi, but prefer
Mozart, D minor seems
their favorite key.
I don't know if they are
male or female, all I
see is a little pink dot, and
they aren't real fond of
me looking.
Bukowski for a male
and Emily for a female.
If they are both males
or both females, I don't
know what the hell I
will call them.
The bigger of the two is
sleeping next to me while
I write this.
I'll be a *******,
he's smiling, or she,
while sixteenth notes rip
through the burnt
umber autumn morning.

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                A Little Kitten and a Little Girl

A little girl sits with her mug of milk
Happy and peaceful with her breakfast toast
Her little kitten lays beside her and purrs
And takes a delicate sip for itself

“DID YOU LET THAT CAT DRINK FROM YOUR CUP THAT CAT HAS GERMS GO WASH YOUR HANDS GIVE ME THAT CUP I NEED TO WASH IT I DON’T KNOW WHY THAT CAT IS IN THE HOUSE CATS HAVE GERMS ***** CAT SNEAKY CAT THEY’RE ALWAYS UP TO SOMETHING DON’T YOU EVER LET AN ANIMAL DRINK FROM YOUR CUP THEY’RE NASTY WE DON’T LIVE LIKE THIS WITH ANIMALS IN THE HOUSE THAT’S A DISGUSTING HABIT PEOPLE WILL THINK WE’RE LOW CLASS WE WERE RAISED BETTER THAN THAT DID YOU LET THAT CAT DRINK FROM YOUR CUP THAT CAT HAS GERMS GO WASH YOUR HANDS GIVE ME THAT CUP I NEED TO WASH IT I DON’T KNOW WHY THAT CAT IS IN THE HOUSE CATS HAVE GERMS ***** CAT SNEAKY CAT THEY’RE ALWAYS UP TO SOMETHING DON’T YOU EVER LET AN ANIMAL DRINK FROM YOUR CUP THEY’RE NASTY WE DON’T LIVE LIKE THIS WITH ANIMALS IN THE HOUSE THAT’S A DISGUSTING HABIT PEOPLE WILL THINK WE’RE LOW CLASS WE WERE RAISED BETTER THAN THAT!!!!!!!!!”

A little girl sits in her backyard swing
Happy and peaceful with her little cat
Two conspirators winking at each other
Far away from their disapproving mother

it is high noon
and white sunlight blazes the sky
the air becoming a wall of heat
it is a miracle anything survives

at the bottom of the sky,
long blades of grass climb upwards
rustling with movement
veiling all life in shadows

mother cat is promenading
striding with babies in her belly
they push against their mother
her stomach expanding gently like a rock

somewhere beneath the canopy
a shifty dragon lies
his snarling tongue is sniffing for something alive
slowly crawling towards a dent in the grass

a newly born litter of kittens
their mother still wandering for shade
their life snuffed out before they’ve opened their eyes
do they feel the sun kiss their sleeping heads goodnight?

in cloudy weather there's a light wind and light rain.
the mother cat and her kitten looking for shelter.
i can see in through her eyes, the pity who whisper to my ears.
i can't do anything but to stare and watch of how hard to be a mother just to find safety to her kittens.