Unnoticed in Clever Worlds

The clearest description I have managed so far about my blog is that it is not about cats. In general, I find predators pretty predictable while prey on the other-hand, because they live in universes of anxiety, develop more textured personalities. I also have as a writer a deft hand when it comes to making matters worse, so of course , the already panicky are ready made for me. I will try to grow this blog into an assortment of laughs, because that is what my life has mostly taught me to do. I will use the famous people I have known to get your attention and then tell you small but many times wonderful things about them. I will never name the ones I say ugly things about but I hope you will guess who they are.

The Oscars

I have decided to boycott the Oscars unless the concussion film wins for best picture. I come from a generation of athletes who were presumed, accurately, to be profoundly stupid. But this movie made me understand that the athletes of today relinquish their potential careers in academia to play football for us.
I think to myself, ” Is the specter of the Syrian refugee crisis, even a tragedy compared to the horror of ex-football stars bumping around the walls of their thirty-two million dollar mansions, forgetting which is the guest or master bedrooms?” I think not.

Poem: The Unanchored Mother and Her Cupcakes

The unanchored mother
is sure-footed
when she bakes.
She floats the cupcakes in shallow seas of Crisco.
Riding them in neat lines
side by side
In crimped colored tissue,
like well-dressed immigrants,
on an ocean voyage
to the oven.

The unanchored mother
broke from her moorings,
today.
The husband is gone.
Cakes will take his place.
She daydreams of icing slapped mouths
and what she will say
about the hole,
at the end of the table
where their anchor used to sit.
The Cyclops eye of long marriage,
that photographed the past, is patched and blank now.
She has only her two eyes left
To remember the children.

The unmoored mother bobs in her waters
of empty plates and crumbs.
The kids hurry through the suppertimes
glancing rarely at the hole.
Then they floated away.

The unanchored mother,
rocks in her childless, noiseless sea,
and reaches for another cupcake.

 

 

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