Poem: The Cat that Caught the Muse
Black blue Cheshire grin swings First left, to nine o-clock, then right, to 3 o-clock Fist fights in the saloon Backstreet lampooning strangers in strange shapes Cats dancing degrees in protracted phases of the moon And love lights the lamposts with that glow only the touch of a brush in the eye of O’Keiff could…