Thieving Walrus

edited by t.Walrus

image by T.Walrus

real begets real
blunt haze softens
the edges

Like a fiend in a cloud,
With howling woe
After night I do crowd
And with night will go;
I turn my back to the east
From whence comforts have increased;
For light doth seize my brain
With frantic pain.

- William Blake

the cat is fat, and he leaves
a trail of himself, wherever he goes
and no matter how many times
i tell him not to, he sleeps on the stove,
so that every meal i have is partly made of him
he is terrible at social conventions, his cold nose
on my warm general tso, his claws
in my arm (legs, back, face, thigh),
and the smell in the bathroom
the smell
the shit in the hallway when it is too much
for even him, it is dreadful
how much i love him
 

edited by t.Walrus

Beginnings
by Kathleen Kyllo

I know I like you
because when you wear that blue dress
I have to look away.

When you butter your toast so slow
I just want to shove it down your throat
for the shock value.

I know that I want it
because when i see myself in the bar bathroom
mirror I’m disappointed not to be a
big black horse.

What if every book is nothing
more than an attempt
to soften the blow?

Let me be a clean shirt hanging
from a line above South Brooklyn

and please, when you do it,
shuck me like sweet pale corn.

Leave my outsides on the porch
when you take me back inside.

from the wonderful lit journal Having a Whiskey Coke With You