Surreptitiously, a cat lingers on the periphery of darkness, staring, with rapt attention into the black oil of obscurity, chasing the flashes of silverfish with eyes like two cunning moons. She is hungry.

The slow eddy of incomprehensible shapes, mere suggestions in a nebulous millpond. In the inertia of time taking it’s time, whispers of form begin to incubate. The black paw of impatience swipes at the volatile shapes, and their phantoms float away in ripples of mercury.

She withdraws her to her sapient haunches, contented with enlightened understanding. When her musings become lucid in the fresh light of morning, she shall have her meal.

Willem de Kooning, Dark Pond, 1948

Willem de Kooning, Dark Pond, 1948

19 replies

  1. I have to wait for ideas to percolate in my backbrain, too. They flit around, half-formed, until they’re ready to come into the light. (But you said it rather more poetically!) Lovely cat metaphor!

    • That whole thing was the image that came to mind when I first started to wake up this morning. I grabbed my laptop and a cup of coffee, got back in bed and started trying to write it out. I’ve written 1000 words in less time than that.

    • a poet! that’s funny right there. i’m just a girl who is finding herself and writing shit down, if i can find a way to marry the depth and the humor then i will be a happy fucking camper.

    • ha! no cat killing here, just my feeble attempt at a metaphor? poem? creative way of describing the formulation of ideas…it’s just words. i like words. not killing cats.

Your thoughts, experiences and opinions here...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s