Wednesday, March 15, 2006

not a sex poem:

i am shorter with no shoes on
my toes rubbing cotton socks
into the synthetic fibers
of a worn-down carpet;
purple into red.

the heat here is on the "fritz"
or a distant island in the pacific
simply taking holiday
in this, the unforgiving tale
of a sturdy winter.

i need to finish this book
so i can write this letter
but i leave in 15 minutes;
go home, go to bed, go to sleep.

between the layers of slumber
are tangled masses and dreams
of his spirit animal and mine
mingling in a domestic forest
at the hum of a filtered pond

and we, of all the creatures,
ill-suited to one another,
are happy here without the heat.

we have thick socks to keep our feet
warm through the last month of winter.


William F. DeVault said...

Very organic, very resonant. You definitely have the voice, and I am pleased to see it. I'll have to get you on my podcast sometime.

katy said...

why thank you, batman! and i'd be delighted to pod a cast or cast a pod... how do i listen in, anyway? i really ought to join in on the pod casting revolution.

arch.memory said...

Ooh! Katy podcasting! That would be so cool!
And here's the link to the podcats:
I just subscribed and I'm downloading... Can't wait!

Drook said...

mmmm hum. "fritz". happy here without heat. delicious in that non-sexual way, besides lint.

I agree with the podcast idea, as I find the sound of your voice pleasant, warm, and friendly (and I can't aurally imagine what you'd be like if angry.)