(reposted in a separate thread per Billy's request)
Revision 2
Whenever my Siamese cat tells me you're cheating
again, this headache becomes an icicle
shattering on stone.
It's crazy to think that cats can talk, or even purr,
when it's clearly the buzz
of implanted transmitters.
Our secrets pad down moonlit paths,
slip underneath roof shadows.
It told me where to find the bullet
pristine, like it had never been fired.
Oswald acted alone. But I knew that
already: some moments are too intimate
to share though, they do require preparation.
I chew on small squares of tinfoil to create interference.
The electrochemical reaction combines
with the mercury in my fillings,
so that I can become cigarette smoke
drifting invisible beneath the window
of the roadside motel you visit every Thursday.
You might see my reflected smile
as you apply lipstick,
or you might miss the obvious.
Revision
Whenever my Siamese cat tells me
you're cheating again,
this headache becomes icicles
shattering on stone.
It purrs then, not to sooth but to cover
the buzz of implanted transmitters.
Your secrets have often padded down
this same moonlit path.
It has spoken of more
then your infidelities. I have heard
of book depositories, and movie studios
with flags waving on windless,
pock-marked rock.
They can never report on me.
I chew tinfoil to create interference,
the electrochemical reaction combines
with the mercury in my fillings,
so that I become like cigarette smoke
drifting insubstantial beneath the window
of the roadside motel you visit
every Thursday.
You might see my reflected smile
as you apply lipstick,
or you might miss the obvious.
Original
Whenever my Siamese cat tells me
you're cheating again,
this headache becomes icicles
shattering on stone.
It's crazy to think that cats can talk,
or even purr, when it's clearly the buzz
of implanted transmitters.
Our secrets pad down moonlit paths,
slip beneath roof shadows,
slink into book depositories,
and movie studios with flags
waving on a windless, pock-marked surface.
I chew on tinfoil to create interference.
The electrochemical reaction combines
with the mercury in my fillings,
so that I can become like cigarette smoke
drifting invisible beneath the windows
of the roadside motel you visit
every Thursday.
You might see my reflected smile
as you apply lipstick,
or you might miss the obvious.
U
Revision 2
Whenever my Siamese cat tells me you're cheating
again, this headache becomes an icicle
shattering on stone.
It's crazy to think that cats can talk, or even purr,
when it's clearly the buzz
of implanted transmitters.
Our secrets pad down moonlit paths,
slip underneath roof shadows.
It told me where to find the bullet
pristine, like it had never been fired.
Oswald acted alone. But I knew that
already: some moments are too intimate
to share though, they do require preparation.
I chew on small squares of tinfoil to create interference.
The electrochemical reaction combines
with the mercury in my fillings,
so that I can become cigarette smoke
drifting invisible beneath the window
of the roadside motel you visit every Thursday.
You might see my reflected smile
as you apply lipstick,
or you might miss the obvious.
Revision
Whenever my Siamese cat tells me
you're cheating again,
this headache becomes icicles
shattering on stone.
It purrs then, not to sooth but to cover
the buzz of implanted transmitters.
Your secrets have often padded down
this same moonlit path.
It has spoken of more
then your infidelities. I have heard
of book depositories, and movie studios
with flags waving on windless,
pock-marked rock.
They can never report on me.
I chew tinfoil to create interference,
the electrochemical reaction combines
with the mercury in my fillings,
so that I become like cigarette smoke
drifting insubstantial beneath the window
of the roadside motel you visit
every Thursday.
You might see my reflected smile
as you apply lipstick,
or you might miss the obvious.
Original
Whenever my Siamese cat tells me
you're cheating again,
this headache becomes icicles
shattering on stone.
It's crazy to think that cats can talk,
or even purr, when it's clearly the buzz
of implanted transmitters.
Our secrets pad down moonlit paths,
slip beneath roof shadows,
slink into book depositories,
and movie studios with flags
waving on a windless, pock-marked surface.
I chew on tinfoil to create interference.
The electrochemical reaction combines
with the mercury in my fillings,
so that I can become like cigarette smoke
drifting invisible beneath the windows
of the roadside motel you visit
every Thursday.
You might see my reflected smile
as you apply lipstick,
or you might miss the obvious.
U
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
