three orange flowers

<< A Froth a Scar >>

It is in the abstraction I find liberation
to be lost in the all-telling nothingness
distancing love for turmoils of nuisances
from the entangled companionship
with the anecdotal other and their claws
disintegrating form, function and frivolities

a bloody scratch as a midway house to molecular absorption elsewhere well’s where any elsewhere some fare some more or less will dare drip, drop stingy scratch some more
nor some here there’s no more mass but masses of hair lost at sea of skin hairline fracture

fractured torn to wayward ways one once was a door, a carrot made of orange rope and a tuft ‘a’ green, dust, an explosion one once was
a while back in a galaxy beyond, a thread of hemp skinned from the plants potted to smoke
I pet Cat. One Once Was. That is, ‘r name.

One kettle, once clinging high pitched piercing
was as vibration onto the tympani osmosing
into the snail-like housed hairs triggering
electro-chemicals at a fraction
of not knowing yet changing: an ear, a brain
a sound sounds of an uncritical pedagogue

I no longer pet Cat. that is, f’r now.
abstraction morphs with awareness that
there is love in a cup of tea as well as
vulnerability to burn, lesions on the tongue
palms overheating and glasses fogging up
fingers slip and I am fulfilled with deep warmth

one that but temperature once was
one intercoursed with memory and embellishments of who introduced Cat to me
how fingertips touched when petting lips
that one time a cup with a rim
off hand-over-paw; sip: it’s blurry

little mouth drink cat tongue;
finger tip. tip trip trickle
I pet Cat, abstractly
then flees from me,
present under sofas,
absurdly slurp absentee

Cat once was one pet
away from teasing me

                        —animasuri’24