Posts Tagged ‘souls’

Today My Typewriter and Camera Came Home

November 27, 2010

I think my immune system is confused and scared. It has no idea what to do, so it’s doing everything until it falls on the right thing. The right thing might be a sore throat, given its consistency, but headaches are another viable option.

Tonight I opened our deck door and a longhaired Siamese cat from nowhere nuzzled my legs. I think it’s lost, but hasn’t been lost long ’cause there’s some burs tangled in its fur but it’s still clean and soft. It zig-zagged in front of my feet going to my car, so I carried it and its eyes closed and purred with its whole body. It sat by the door when I went inside.

For the umpteenth time I’m reading Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy, which means something to me in the way dead grass patches in our backyard where posts of a swing set used to be mean something. I thought of it when the cat appeared and thought angels exist and sent me a soul because in the story people’s souls live outside themselves as animals, but my parents said the cat zig-zagged in front of their feet too.

My friends Jazz and Ariane said mine would be a phoenix but with peacock feathers and not fire ones. I don’t know if I agree but it’s nice to know someone thinks you look like rebirth and jewel colors.

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The Big Dogs

December 10, 2009

the big dogs eat my heart, oh my god,

the big dogs weave themselves into

my limbs as I sleep like casts for

all-over fractures and breathe deep

to massage my jagged jigsaw bones

back into place.

.

they say things like “we are one” and

“you are ours, and we are yours.”

they howl burial hymns that scythe

men’s souls to shards like murder

mirrors bouncing future pictures

back of awkward, messy ends;

men blush and weep, ashamed

of ugly, indifferent deaths.

.

the big dogs blaze strength like martyrs

in my weakness, they hunt in packs,

they think like us but cannot speak.

I love them, my god, I love them

so much; I feel their souls through

the fur on their necks

because they choose to live

in the open.  the big dogs

have no home but themselves;

I go where they go, I sleep where

they sleep.  they are my guides

and keepers, they know the place

where I will die, they will carry me

on their soft, strong backs as I go.