Tuesday, April 30, 2013

The Human Pet

There was a human that showed up outside my door. They are very rare this far out in the ‘verse not only because they nearly obliterated themselves by polluting the planet but because they have so much trouble adapting to life this far out.

I had a human once before as a child. It followed me home, I couldn’t tell if it was male or female, with all it cloths and bashfulness. There’s only one way to tell if a human is male or female they don’t want you to know. They all look so much alike.

Humans are a lot of work. They get stinky so fast and have to be cleaned almost every day. They need utensils to eat and this imagination and worship of the Devine takes up so much time. Plus they get lonely so easily. I had to give mine up because I couldn’t afford to get another one and mine just moped all the time and played with its self. Mom said that meant it needed a friend.

I went out in the back yard to see what this human wanted now. Its cloths were all tattered and it was trying to rip blankets off my clothes line. It had its dirty paws on my clean silk sheets. I tried to chase it away, perhaps it would get on a ship and go to someone else’s planet.

But is sat on the lawn and made a horrible sound, it was what my friend who breeds humans, on a planet with more oxygen, calls sad; such a simple word for such an annoying sound. I just wanted it to stop that noise

I reached for its hand and brought it inside I took it to the dinner room and offered it some human food I had from the time I looked after a friends pair about a month ago. It was a little stale, but humans eat anything. On their own planet they eat animals. Bacon?

This one ate what I gave it and it burped a bit, for a moment I remembered why humans could be so cute, that little burp after they eat. I went over to the neighbours to get some cloths and let the human soak in the tub. This one insisted on bubble bath so the neighbor guessed I had a female on my hands, said they could be moody and gave me and extra box of something.

My neigbour’s human, that just passed away, they have such a short life span, was quite overweight, but she said until we find something better these cloths will do in a pinch.

At home I cracked the door open slightly and threw in the cloths, it squeaked a bit and then made the laughter sound, and started to babble to itself. You either get the really quiet ones or the talkie ones, and I assumed I had a talkie one on my hands.

Our friends and I go out to the bar and spend hours guessing whether or not human chatter means anything. They have a whole world they created cities and towns so their squeaks and hen scratch must mean something.

It came downstairs and looked at the TV. It seemed to have no idea how to turn it on. So I walked over to the wall and pressed a code that picks up old TV signals from earth and it fell asleep on the floor watching a show where they bite each other in the neck. They’re such a violent kind.

There was something cute and simple about it sleeping on the floor so I decided for now that I would keep it and call it Misha.

Saturday, April 27, 2013


I must have a daughter
To take my place
As I age
To rule this queendom
I must have a daughter to
Teach the world peace
I must have a daughter
To teach the world strength
She will be Perseverance

And rather than look for
Any man who breaths
I must look for the father
 Of my daughter

That I dreamed of 
I’ve dismissed her
Until now
But she’s always

Meant love
In the dream.


Just a little poem I wrote 5 minutes ago, I’m reading Mists of Avalon and they’re going on about having a son. And I thought I’d write about having a daughter. There’s a daughter in my dreams. Maybe I should listen to what she says.

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Scattered Pieces

The chairs of the theatre are red. I walk out, it’s another movie I don’t want to watch until the end.

I do that leave movies half way through, especially when I go to see them alone. When I reach the exit sign I turn around to look behind me.

On the screen there is a fire, there is something wrong in the projection room and the fire burns in slow motion and I can see the different lines of the film, each square of picture. Sometimes you I hear the director’s voice end the scene. Cut and Print.

There is dirt and dust on the projector.

No one in the theatre seems to notice, everyone is quiet. A couple in the front row are pointing at what’s in the fire, covering their mouths from the smoke, wiping the heat from their brow. The start to look at me and point at what needs to come be salvaged. I went to university with them, they fell in love there and have been together ever since. I hardly recognized them anymore.

There’s a whole past burning in the fire.

I decide walk back down the aisle. I decide to walk into the fire. I find I can pull up a tray of canapés and have a snack, the catering boss gives me a note that reminds me all that I have learned being there, the people who were my friends. He said it’s ok that you ran away, I forgive you, karma is looking you in the face telling you how it could have been done.

That’s what I did I ran away, rather than stop and see what we could do I ran away. As I realized I ran away a fireman came and put out the fire around the kitchen and there was a kitchen where I could make my own canapés. Do my own cooking.

Beside the kitchen is the bathroom, the same one I cleaned every day for 3 years. My boss and I walk in and look at the fire. He takes a canapé. We are very relaxed. Said it never should have gone down the way it did, it was all backwards, but this is a piece of you, the piece you ran away from.

I ran away.

It’s time to bring these scattered pieces home.

The fire fighters put out the fire, so much of it is ashes, that’s what happens when you let your past burn, but there are scattered pieces to bring home and set in my new house my new life. I clean the tarnish off the copper of the old ship and the artifacts of the old museums. I remember that who I was is part of who I am.

I am catering staff I am an actor a reader a writer a houseperson a museum guide. They are all pieces of me, I need to accept them all in my life so that I can move on with being me.

Saturday, April 20, 2013

Because My Voice

Deep down

I’m at peace
Deep down
There’s an over flow
The river to the ocean
Arms large and accepting
Rise up

I’m at peace
Rise up
There are feathers
And flight
The sky lifting and strong
Because my voice
Speaks through me
Because my tongue
Has help from friends
Red and orange are crying
The world has started prying
Opening the dreams in the songs
Soon I hear them sung by those around me
Green and blue they dance
I’m seeing even more chance
Strength and intuition
Spoken deep inside me
Because my voice
Sounds like rain
Because my tongue
Melts the sun

I am free

Monday, April 15, 2013

spider webs

                                                                           not my photo

We’re eating spider webs
Taking deep breaths
And pulling them down with our teeth
We walk through the dew
We chase the spider away
In a cold and abandoned room
In our dreams
We pull down
What neglect has built
Mountains out of crushed stone
Climbing them like Everest
Our feet slide
Down with the avalanche
Of loose loves
We haven’t been running lately
Still walking everywhere
But no running
Our breaths are labored
Our lungs and muscles weak
A loneliness
Of feet on the road
We thought it was a choice
But all of a sudden
We realize how we've shaped our life
To like it
To need time
The spider web
In my teeth

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Best Decision Ever

It’s April and I spent the night dreaming of sun and flip flops. I woke up to Tini swinging from the curtains and succeeded in ripping the one closest to the road down. I waved to the runners as they pass and I lay there eyes blinking at the little white cat deciding it was breakfast time.

Since moving here I’ve had nightmares that were so real and so moving, the flashbacks have sent me home from work. I’ve found a meter long crack in the bedroom floor where I can see the light from the basement, and can hear every breath the neighbours take. I know what movie their watching, what they’re arguing about and have had to start listening to music again before I go to sleep.

I used to listen to Robbie Robertson every night as a teenager, every night we would “go walking in the night parade”; we’d “tip our hat like Don Quixote” and close it off with a “sign from the rainbow.” But that was as a child living in what I believed to be a haunted house. I haven’t had to do that for 15 years.

I have a power bill from hell and  have to wear thick fluffy socks with flats in the house, sometimes to bed, so I don’t get a cold in the kidneys and I’m still not comfortable playing the piano because it makes so much noise.

When I brought the house sitter into my old apartment to sign the lease and hand over the checks for the next year and she said “Why do you want to move out of here.” Maybe I should have taken it as a sign, but I knew what I wanted, I wanted that sun porch as a writing room and a place to have a cat.

My first cat was Izzy. She’s a rescue in the full sense of the word. On my birthday the whole family had a party and watched Lord of the Rings. Somewhere around Gollum screeching “my precious” mom said I should look at the Shelter website. There were two kitties that had been there for over a year and a half. I wanted both. But one shared the knick name of my best friend. It said she needed a home away from children and with a patient mama. I knew she would have some issues but I knew I was her mama.

The next day we were at the shelter. Izzy was scared of everyone and everything. When I went to pull her out of the cage, she scrambled, much like she does now when company comes to visit, her food dish went one way her water dish the other and my sister, and the shelter lady, cleaned up the mess- so excited that this cat who had been there so long was going to have a home. I held Izzy tight, probably the longest anyone has ever held her. Certainly the longest I have ever held her in my arms was that day.

I asked my mother if I was crazy to adopt a cat like this and she said “it’s your cat.” And I knew I could save her.

After three months the two of us had made a bond, her favorite toy was a little silver barrette and nana got her the laser light, and she was brave enough to sit on my lap for ½ hour 45 minutes when I sat on the couch beside her. But when I left her alone (and I greedily thought that a cat like her would like to be left alone) she’d turn her head and say with her eyes “mama I is all alone.”

I brought it up to other people that I wanted another cat and they said “But can Izzy handle another cat?”

Finally on the last week of January I looked at my friend and said “Can you drive me to the Shelter on Saturday? I’m getting a friend for Izzy.”

She said “Have you picked one out yet?”

All I knew is when I walked in there I would pick one. But going with my friend had conditions she would take me if I looked at the website. I picked out three cats Belle because she was quiet and reserved, Kate because she was an elegant black cat and Tini, because the look of life shone in her eyes.

By the end of the week sentences started with “When I bring Tini home…”

When we walked in to the shelter the first cat we walked by stuck her paw out and tapped my friend on her shoulder. “That’s Tini.” Said the volunteer.

“I think she just picked us.”  We looked at other cats but I was so afraid that while we did someone would take Tini home.

We took Tini home.

The shelter was excited to see Izzy go home and gave us her blanket for the carrier and a carrier anything to get the cat a home. When we went to take Tini home we had the carrier and a blanket, and the volunteer went over to a shelf on the wall and picked up a huge cylinder of balls with bells (ballie balls) and said “You’ll need these.”

Like any good cat owner my rules were that Tini had to spend an hour or two in the bed room so she had her own space, since Izzy claimed the living room .

That lasted all of five minutes. While I left Izzy alone in the apartment because she was too scared to leave the carrier when I was in the house Which led to about two months of hiding in the closet and under blankets in the couch, Tini was ready to take over. She crawled over the bed explored the house, Took pictures off the hangers and climbed a few walls. I knew I wanted a smart cat, but maybe I had out done myself.

The neighbor stopped me one day and said (and remember we can hear everything) “that cat is really ambitious isn’t she?”

Life with Tini means the settings on my computer are always being changed. I need to call her in the bathroom so she can watch the toilet flush, if she hasn’t already opened the door on her own. I will have to lose some of the damage deposit I paid to reimburse them for the screens she’s crawled up and I have to hide everything that is dangerous to a cat away from the cat. She finds elastics I didn’t know I had, she chews the thumb tacks from the curtains she rips down and has her eye set on the glass Chrirstmas pickle ornament which has since been hidden.

Life with Tini means a friend sitting in the living room window waiting for me to come up the drive way, A friend to wake me up in the morning when I think that the world is too much. And a Life with Tini means a friend for Izzy, they were sisters and best friends instantly. They play together eat together and Tini teaches Izzy to come out in the kitchen and the play in the sun porch. And Izzy loves the sun porch.

Yesterday Tini woke me up at 4:30 in the morning, she stuck her face in my mouth and slept on me until I got out of bed. Since I was up I cleaned the house and she helped with the dishes by sitting on the counter and playing in the dish water.

After four months the friend who went to the Shelter with me to take home Tini, came over for treat day. She was amazed at how tuned into me she was, how well we communicated. And we tried to get Izzy to play but I’m her people and when anyone else but Tini or I are around, she hides, ok Izzy likes men we don’t know why.

 I saved Izzy, but Tini saved the two of us.

SO when I write out that power bill, or re arrange the bed room to cover over a crack with the carpet that’s supposed to be in the Kitchen. When I ruin a perfectly good pair or dress flats in the kitchen because they’re warm and quiet on the feet, or when I wake up at 4:00 in the morning having dreams of being pulled off the bed, I look at my kitties  curled up on the couch with their paws wrapped around each other, kissing each other, and know that it’s all worth it.