These cats
one black and white,
one orange and white
come in the night to sleep in our bed.
warm and furry beyond reason
they slither under the covers in cold weather
Or install themselves above our heads
as if to coronate us
there to purr in all their regal magnificence
and sleep untroubled like gods.
Until they get hungry!
then they start knocking
shit off the dressers, upending lamps
they trash the place like vandals
and claw our flesh without mercy.
goddamnit, cats! all right. you win.
we will go downstairs to the kitchen
and eat some cat food.
Category: poetry
Two true stories
Rising from the mat
I go into the kitchen
to prepare some tea.
The avocado
you left here the other day
is perfectly ripe.
poetry in the bathroom
taken away from my
customary diet
I become
stopped up.
struggling to squeeze out
two or three small turds
there is more than
time enough
to examine the poetry
books piled high in
Ann’s bathroom
At the swimming hole
You descend from the diving board
and crash through the surface
of the sudden cold
now you are submerged
in silent green luminescence
and for one instant
the mind is clear and still
Rain delay — Shea Stadium, June 2007
Tom Glavine throws six shutout innings
Then the rain returns
steady and effortless
falling through floodlit darkness
onto the abandoned orange seats
pooling on the white tarp over the infield
soaking the flawless outfield grass.
My friend and I sit beneath the overhang
conversing in the way you do
with those you have known at least twenty years
as we watch the security staff
in their yellow raincoats
dutifully guarding the field against nobody
silent and hooded like monks.
Gabriela’s Country
)
Chocolate water land has rainbow
trees
And it’s very far away
So nobody can see
It’s a long, long country where
my grandma lives
There are flat boats with flat people
— everything is flat
Their hair is flat and
their crayons are flat
There are special sparkles
from the rainbow trees
— Gabriela Cloé 17-March-2007
At the Ale House with Gabriela
When I ask my 3-year-old
to dictate another poem,
she says “Write your own.
That’s a good way to do it.”
So I grasp a purple crayon
and begin.
Zen teaches us
there is no secret
nothing is hidden
everything is It.
This moment in the neighborhood pub
The butter this child smears on her bread
This table, this paper, this crayon
is It.
— Professor B. 18-March-2007
Another Winter Day
Today it was a winter day
It was a lot of snow outside
And tomorrow
It was another winter day
And then
This is the story
Begin.
And yesterday
It wasn’t a winter day
And then Mami
Just picked a flower
Please: it was another day
And tomorrow
It was another morning day
— Gabriela Cloé, February 19, 2007
Spring training: a haiku
just after the roar
of the Superbowl is gone:
pitchers and catchers
still more poetry by Gabriela Cloé
If you give me too much love
it could turn pink
and this is part of the poem
I’m going to give you more love
Otherwise
I’m going to give you
nice lollipops for you
If you be good
I’m going to give you
fresh chocolate milk
If you be good
and have fun in your house
I’m going to give you
another special present
I’ll give you fresh water
And then
If you be good
I’ll give you
a new shirt
I’ll give you
more Chapstick
new Chapstick
You know which flavor it’s going to be?
Cherry cream
Cherry watermelon
—
Gabriela 21-Jan-2007