The tide is high
on this downward spiral
but I'm not seasick yet
despite riding the endless
current
and staring into the belly
of a whirlpool
and waiting for that
abyss
to stare back

One of these poems
could probably be a suicide note
and we're just not
aware
of it yet.

I'm still
down about
the little kitty cat
and I think my
other cat
knows because she's
relaxing with me
while I listen to
an old Doobie Brothers
record
even though she's more of a
Marty Robbins kind of cat
so that's how
I know she's thinking
of me.

Lily dear
my greenhouse queen
you were the spunkiest
little kitten I knew
and I hope that
maybe you're up
in the greenhouses of
Valhalla
or
heaven
or
paradise
and that you're doing
a good job keeping
the birds and mice away
and they don't have
automatic windows in
heaven
Lily
you don't have to worry
anymore.

Dance! Quickly!
Across the
nihilistic
field day
that is Wednesday morning
where the world has gone mad
and we still can almost
keep our heads up
amid the headlines
and fake-real-fake news cycles
and see humanity moving forward while
the world is coming to an end
and we'll all hold hands before
the cosmos
and say
"Well, it wasn't MY fault."

This coffee shop
serves its tea
in small lightbulb
shaped carafes
and I appreciate that
because
all the best ideas
have been had
over a cup of tea

We continue to act as though
we humans were the first to
discover the beauty
of nature
and that the birds
haven't been singing
about it since the
first little Finch
chirped and created
music as we know it