Cat Roshi



The phone interrupts me


While taking sleeping lessons

From my cat

It is an invitation to a stampede

Which I decline.


Distracted from Cat-mind

I transcribe some television commercials

For therapeutic purposes

Then spend a few minutes juggling feathers.


Down below the old woman

Is playing the vibraharp again

And singing her adaptation

Of Molly Bloom’s soliloquy.


I throw another economics book 

On the fire

And regard the cat.


She has sealed herself off again

Impervious to modern art

Presidential campaigns

And free verse.


The phone is ringing

I am studying the cat

Catching on, perhaps,

But it is a long way back.