Poems by JakTraks

6 Weeks Laid-off

last night I woke and wondered why
I wasn't nervous

shouldn't I be

without a job
lacking any mapped direction
following instinct happily

now this morning I feel nervous
with no more reason
than yesterday but
still following my nose

hound on the trail of myself

(it is the watching gives butterflies)

scent is strong
the hound is sure

Rabbits

Oh so quick, oh so fast -
one direction never lasts
for very long, this way that,
hind legs pumping lithe and strong.

Fashioned to cheer, they are dear,
cute face, soft fur, perky ears,
traveling by deft dressage
their scattered path is espionage.

As bunny parents, they're terrific,
and happy to be quite prolific,
next time you have a job to do,
hop it along - soon you're through.

Nestled in Earth's underground
their wiskers tickle moving round,
looking sweet, looking sunny,
what's not to like about a bunny?

Sea Turtles

The female swims many hundreds of miles
to drop eggs on the sands of her own birth,
clumsy on land but a grace through salt waters:
stillness in motion across Neptune's leagues,
under its shell: soft relentlessness
breast-stroking a steady . . . patient . . . pace;

the weeks of her travel are part of one
ancient, ageless moment, reborn each year
an army of tiny turtles shuffling to sea.

Sky Sweep

it always feels good - after I vacuum,
the tracked litter and cat hair
snatched-up from the dark carpet,

I tell my cats no more shedding or
tracking clay bits into the living room;

it looks as if they pay attention
for a couple days and then
pieces of litter dot the rug, telltale
constellations of feline mythology;

a few more days and the brown weave
has become the night sky so full,
its hard to perceive patterns at all;

another week and the cloudy coat
of cat hair masquerades the Milky Way,
I settle and star-gaze in the arms
of an overstuffed chair;

eventually, in places tread,
the Milky Way balls into clouds
obscuring the celestial view,
to renew, I must suck the heavens
into a boxy paper bag,

no tracking and no shedding I repeat;
and for a lovely couple days
I am pleased to inhabit the void.

The Dog That Limped

After releasing helium beliefs
into the bright morning,
what to put in my cup to drink -
the usual dark roast, strong
and a bit bitter, or
an exotic tea
steeped in a glass pot?

Leaves on old-growth trees once -
by the wind during a lightening storm -
whispered ancient secrets in my ear,

an ordinary thought saved my life,
love thick in the air around me,
a full moon tapped me on the shoulder,

before I fell asleep
an angel bent down and kissed my cheek,

Woke from a dream -
still feeling the press
of the deceased's hand on mine,

my cats follow with head and eye
things I cannot see,

a bluejay - in this jay-less neighborhood -
sat outside the screen door
and gave me a dressing down,

the wandering dog that limped
told me which house he lived in,

and those 5 young Cardinals . . .

these moments remain as tea leaves
at the bottom of my cup
of dark roast, strong and a bit bitter.

Eau de Sleeping Cat

Scent of sun-warmed white linen,
soft lips brushing a cool cheek,
slow flow of bright-blue water,
new leaves waving from gnarled trees.

Traces

here nigh an eagle’s nest,
here the desert teaches
without plush appearances
beauty of space and plane . . .

how eagle traces its poem
over reams of sand,
with acute vision reads
then mimics the cry of stone . . .

how dry winds wet
the lips of intuition, why
silence streams solace,
impresses felt melodies.

for us at this apex
detail diminishes behind
broad strokes of ochre
circling each bluff . . .

but taking eagle perception
note movement of life
in the day’s isles of shade,
the moon’s cape of night.

here on this ridge
where mind melts into space
I trace echoing sighs
on planes of sand paper.

Chipmunk

there. out my front window. a chipmunk.
the first I've ever seen in this yard.

years ago I held a baby chipmunk.
left its garden, followed me down the walk.
the soft, warm, bony sense of it
still a wild life in my hand.
through the worn white fence I set it back
beneath the shade of pink and purple blooms.

now telling the story I have to wonder
if today it finally followed me home.

Brink, Plink and Think

Jax slinks to the bowl
swipes a paw across the brink
litter in his drink

Java to the sink
jumps up to drink faucet drops
before they ker-plink

M J stops to think
before deigns to take a drink
lynx philoso-fur

Incognito

the fan looks left - then right - then left,
vigilant for stale air.
like a royal hand it waves.

radar scanning my private life.
whose giant eye have I
brought into my home this summer?
through it watching a movie of
myself tolerating myself.

a god's ear masquerading,
listening to the baby-way
I talk love to my cats, and
belly-belch after dinner.

Grack Grack

one of my cats let out a wobbly whine:
grackles out on the lawn grack-ling.
or whatever it is grackles do.

if grackles grack, what is that in human
terms? Is it humans humaning?
we each our own interpretation of that!

its easier for a grackle to grack than
a human to hume: we think huming
complicated because we have chosen

sides. there are so many. today
I'm going to sit and allow true
attach to true before the day gets humming.

Black Jaguar

a piece of night slipping through the night,
but for the citrus-blazed eyes: stealth,
cloaked as wizard of mysteries withheld
silence slides on metal muscle, all grace
sheening through ivory patches of moonlight
minding her turf meticulously, prowling
in luxury of dire light-speed and power.

Cats Grazing

Today my cats are in grass heaven.
Lawn service hasn't started yet
leaving the yard a lush feline pasture,
long enough to please horses and cows
(except I don't have any of those).
My cats turn their head to the side
chewing a good chunk of blade off.
Most of it will be regurgitated:
a juicy green cud on my carpet.
But my cats are in grass heaven.

Finches

golden finches light to chip
"what's imagined is what's made"
so at the very least may we
dream-design with heart inlaid

Poem to Prevent Implosion

haven't penned a poem in days
I think I might implode,
all my musings will go splat -
graffiti on my walls

tomorrow plan to mend my way -
a shift to poet mode,
sit and settle then three cats
will on my notebook sprawl

they think they are my muse and stay
their mews-ings to be told,
even though I tell them "scat"
they curl top my scrawl

my mind will wander as a stray
until it sniffs a lode,
between the furry bodhisats
words will crooked crawl

Poem by My Cats

Play - for a cat - the only way
To spend free time between: taking pees,
Lying a spot of sun, soulful cries,
"Go get me some treats, rub me slow,
Tuna for lunch then a brushing is due."

Divine Use of Blue

 

rare, a blue jay in this neighborhood,
that mix of heaven and earth the hue of sky,
not a bully, just not sentimental,
unapologetic strength and charm,
surely a divine use of blue
though a sharp atonal messenger,
perhaps if human ears had broader range
jay's harsh rap would wax melodious

a song without a tune tough to ignore
plus it came from just outside my door,
"where earth and cosmos meet is every creature's
voice, lyrical or static or
uplifting or unsettling: one
of the four elements all
necessary, you listen up,
my credential if you need, the crest"
and thus addressed left me to this poem

Fins Un-opposed

I am the whale
sluicing the chilly seas
deep to where its dark
up through filtered light,
sending messages
out in atonal songs.
We blow and inhale
bridging the world of swim
and the world of walk
waving a temp good-bye
with astounding tails,
pushing ourselves toward
the spangle-y shared sky
to execute our version
of the cannonball.
(Like you) protect our offspring,
sometimes struggling
to thrive or survive,
our occupation (like you)
the essence of love
though free of busy-ness made
by opposable thumbs.

Cat Contemplation

Sometimes my cat Mocha Joe
Harbors wisdom in his eyes,
Lies quietly and contemplates
Occasionally sighs,

Until his lids grow so heavy,
Closing in slow motion then -
After drifting several moments -
Fly open and shut again.

But soon blond lashes lift and he
To his cushion re-adapts,
Focus soft within a daydream
He stares attention rapt

Hunting squirrels in a forest,
Chasing rabbits or climbing trees,
Relief from sweet monotony
Of bearing love from me.

In Black Satin

After dark
she comes on little cat feet
to the sill,
my felines simper greetings and
relentlessly plucking the blinds
signal their servant
to offer kitty crumpets
on the stoop.
Refreshments done the
siren trots off,
three neutered guys'
eyes follow,
hang-dog look captured
in the glass.

Window Seat

Never seeming to tire of
peering out four windows
at the same four-season
quiet tree-lined street

lounging the window seat:
benevolent neighborhood watch,
or sitting tall their heads
jerking every which way

following what plays
(leaves ladybugs bees)
or lowering like a Sphinx
into a bath of sunshine

and the slowing of time.
Cats have lotus wisdom:
perceiving the world in
the only street they view,

there are people too
oddly content to gaze
a few familiar windows,
aware of every thing.

Btwn Flat and Brat

Cats are brats -
(why I like them so much)
more fun than being flat
if you recall, before brat
was slapped out of you.

Not that bratty works at work
or in casual relationships,
the impulse behind it
what we should never lose:
brought back to innocence it
cannot bruise.

Brats annoy on purpose,
say what they think regardless,
push buttons for power pleasure or gain,
blackmailer, tattle-taler, truth sayer,
an assertion of self at best
or heart of manipulative player.

Innocent, its mischief,
risk exchanged for delight
yours and theirs, jabs at serious,
foil for how things should go,
It says your way may be necessary -
that its crap, we know.

Finding Enough Light

I
Java lays down
slaps his tail on the carpet,
I'm waiting it says
impatiently.
He knows I'll cave . . .
and I do.
Rub a dub dub.

II
Its been raining for days;
now the sunlight falls
on this paper, my sweatshirt
too warm, coffee cooling.
Many will be cheered by the bright,
but lost on me
who just hissed at the cats.

III
Some plants find enough light
in the shade.

Cosmic Butterfly

Docked
on the bush beside me:
butterfly
lowers its wings,
wide,

each one:
black,
an occasional purple
or indigo sheen
there,
then gone.

The midnight velvet:
eternity,
a void so full
to bursting with bliss
it sang itself
into this beauty.

Edges of infinity:
tipped
in banana joy,
Icarus innocence,
lemon crayon love
lined with

eyes, blue:
April sky
to ocean depths,
lily pads
with night vision
peering
into the mystery,

juicing the innocent
with soft buzzes
of knowing.

Regarding the Whale

in my throat
swims a whale

spouting steam
jumping to heaven
and back

tremendous force
without hands
without legs

only the sea
carrying
where it will

my songs

Persistence with Paws

i tried to teach my cats
delayed gratification
and that canned cat food
doesn't grow on trees
that fur does not entitle them
to endless massage
(even when they purr)
and dripping faucet sink-drinking
is a waste of water

of course
if they had learned those things
i'd be disappointed

i like that cats don't sacrifice
even for good reasons
they gladly receive whatever abundance
comes their way
and they know how to make it
come their way
having something in mind
sooo persistent are they

i think
at least once a week
every person should act
like a cat

Sir Chickadee and the Leaves

sir chickadee perches a branch
in the tree out front
his head snaps this and that way
to the beat of my heart,
he scolds me for this:
not sooner coming outside
this put-it-in-a-jar-and-save-it
august day.

the missus finds him
to share five minutes alone
planning nest upgrades
insectivore picnics,
my cat stares a black hole
through their arboreal universe
thwapping his tail on the grass.

its not like yesterday
when persistent winds forced secrets
from the neighborhood leaves
even as they shushed one another,
today the leaves bob on their branches -
buoys on calm water -
all talked out.

i close my eyes
feeling their gentle wave within
. . . within . . . within . . .
finding in the rhythm
delight, bright as the sun.

Odette to Sunday

coffee is brewing
hair is bad but I don't care
it must be Sunday

napping with the cats
waking up at 10 a.m.
gotta love Sunday

mind is wandering
lands on novel I'm reading
three cheers for Sunday

brushing cat hair off
my pants then check my planner
thinking of Monday

The Crab

did not enjoy my day at work
irritable inside
fillin' my role on the outside

did some breathing and yoga
a little qigong
even meditated briefly
reminded myself how fortunate
to be employed
laughed when I could
. . .  still crabby

a crab day
day of the crab
I like eating crab

Domestic Hunter

yesterday I was an intrepid domestic
my vacuuming fantastic
sucked prolific dust bunnies
into dust bunny heaven

a layer
of white and black cat hair
ascended through the tunnel
joining the bunnies and mighty mites
not anchored in the short pile

sweating from exertion
switched off the hoover
and gloated above the wall to wall trophy
knowing it would never be
nearly as satisfying
if I hunted every week

Just When You Get Comfortable . . .

morning sun spills in
drapes the wide arm of my chair
Mocha Joe* stretched out

cup of joe near by
blinds trace bars across this page
temporarily

empty yogurt cup
a good book on the table
but now I must pee

*Mocha Joe is a cat

For Coyote

Yesterday I searched for a picture
inside Photobucket on the web
of coyote howling on a peak.

Discovered lovely shots made day and night -
some with coyote howling at the moon
others, coyote trotting through the woods
or through a snowy field morning bright -
mixed in with shots of coyote lying dead,
sometimes the head held upright by the one
who killed it with the courage of a gun.

I've never heard of people eating coyote,
guess it was for sport of shooting lead
at an archetype of mystic lore,
wily it was but destined for a hardwood
floor or being crowned upon a wall.

At least, dear hunter, do not smile wide
over loss of life just like your own,
coyote yes, attacks a human being
when hungry enough or for its own protection;
they eat the meat off other animals' bones.

Its the pompous grin I don't like seeing:
a god with no respect for brother's breathing.

Inevitable

don't feel too inspired
in fact I'm rather tired
I feel a nap coming on

lay down . . .

don't feel all that tired
in fact I'm pretty wired
got some chores I need to do

get up . . .

wish that I had hired
a maid I am so mired
hear a book call my name

sit down . . .

not much plot transpired
the author should be fired
salty chips would make my day

get up . . .

no chips below or higher
disappointment dire
think that I will meditate

sit down . . .

my lap becomes a bier
three cats have come to lie here
was in focus now so blurry

curl up . . .

the kitties had conspired
and risked this person's ire
knowing all the while they're safe

to sleep we now aspire . . .

Yule Nap

when my cats sleep throughout the year
they remind me of Christmas
for they become peace on earth
innocence
and contentment with what is

they practice all year long
just for Christmas day
several times each 24 hours
rehearsing a yuletide nap

and today
Christmas day
I'd like to blow their tender essence
into the hearts and minds of men
women and children everywhere

as for my feline friends
when they wake up this afternoon
all they'll want is fresh canned food
and the holiday massage
that I practice throughout the year

Innocence of Cats

one of my cats said
write about mercury in fish
another cat said
write about endangered jungle cats
the third said
write about global warming

I think they're pulling my leg

what they really want
is for me to stop writing
and rub them
tell them how handsome they are
give them some treats

but we don't need cats
to tug at our legs
we pull our own
to relieve immense problems
when all we really want
(what would make our day)
is some version of
a hug with praise and cat treats

Before and After Sandwich

today I'm restless
can't sit still
keep thinking
I've got energy for something
unused

or too much of a good thing

maybe if I eat a sandwich
I'll know what to do
with myself

(back from sandwich)

someone made a snowman
across the street
scarf hat buttons funny face

java curled up in my lap
warm on this cold day
rubbed him under the chin
and enjoyed the bliss
on his face

still restless but
a little more grounded
think I'll go out
and bring in the mail

Taking the Throne

monday is my first of days
being a manager type
yipes!

a foreman not a yeoman now
and here I sit the same old cow
but inside I feel it stretching
the sleeping lion lifts its head

courage the groggy feline said

my presence will cause them all to pause
while compassion blunts my claws
it will be hard to bare my teeth
squeezed inside your skinny sheath

but if you need it I can pounce
roaring scares them when it counts
and hunters above will never see
the lazy cat you're born to be

those below will always find
a lioness is mostly kind

I think that's what the feline said
rising from her yeoman bed

Maybe For The World

wisdom's more than words
that weather shocks of time

it nests in quiet minds
open to one moment's
scent of orange rind
or the garbage bin
taste of grandma's famous fudge
or swallowing medicine
magnificent violet sunrise
or violent slurs on walls

clear perception welcomes
the sage to perch and sing
a private verse perhaps
or for persons you're with

maybe its for the world

shout it sing it say it
write it play it sketch it

what is relevant now
may be a firefly's flash
or glide on passing years . . .

where there isn't day and night
each held equally dear

Head and Heart Romance

I'm taking an animal communication
class and we are four weeks in

learning how skeptical my mind
but how well I trust my feelings
and how the two work together
keeping me from fantasies
of talking with the ants cats
squirrels foxes birds horses
etc
while allowing me to know
the experience of close
communication with another
species

they balance one another well
to separate the real from not
but then
what is reality

maybe it's the great romance

Above the Coral Floor

yesterday evening I watched a large
turtle swim over one year
getting back to her birth-time beach
where she was once an egg and laid
her hundred or so under the sand

the coolest thing was watching her swim
(thanks to PBS and nature)
talk about being at peace with time
and the distance of a journey

my breathing slowed to almost nothing
seeing her slowly trace the way
of ancient electromagnetic trails
cruising them at one mile per hour

when next I find myself becoming
harried I will close my eyes
and stroke above the coral floor
inside the skin beneath her shell

Cats and Leaves

this morning I sat with my cat java
watching the play of light and shade
on the wall made by leaves
jigging around with a light breeze
through the ash trees out in front

as the sun went higher the art
thin grey branches and pointed leaves
crawled down the wall onto the carpet
and disappeared in the dark weave

java curled up to take a nap
another cup of coffee for me
and pondered how simple pleasures can be
either that
or I'm becoming a cat . . .

a feline hunter in the wild
suburban maze of yards and streets
eat and play
groom and sleep
hiss and scratch
purr and paw
and require a lot of treats

Puddle

almost home

spotted an american goldfinch
knee deep in puddle
side of road

no other traffic
stopped the car

watched the yellow fellow
splash and flash
with chickadees and sparrows

were I a bird
I admit
wanting to be the piece of sun
regaled in black
stopping drivers in their tracks

sunny flew off
I drove away
thinking that thinking
"your ego's too large"
a tad cliche

humility whispers
brown is the goal
my spirit counters
do not do that soul
under the bushel thing

feed the cats clean the box
sweep the floor air creatures need

two wings for flight
I am one finch
ten sparrows and chicks

magic mix
of earth and fire
for shine
required

Fur Bait

so today
taking a walk
in the neighborhood

a thirty-something man
I've waved to several times
stood at the end of his drive
holding a cat

he was holding the cat
so I'd stop and chat

to bite or not to bite

the long haired calico
was gorgeous
what the hell
I stopped to stroke the bait
she's very pretty is she yours

the feisty feline hissed and bit
not hard enough to break the skin
I grin

do you live nearby

in the area
beautiful day
nice meeting you and ferocious cat
a wave a smile
on my way

thinking
I'm a sucker for fur
he's too young
but yep
still got it

Ant-ics

this was the week
of the local ant jubilee
in my kitchen

a heavy trail
coming and going from a hole
in the floor
in the wall
conga line to the cats' dishes
pick up a crumb
do a one-eighty
and go

quite a convention
I imagine ants that haven't
seen each other over the winter
reconnect
catch up

we added 20 more
tunnels to our home
we've had a real baby boom
at our farm
(boomer ants)
milo went on a scouting trek
never returned
we keep hoping

hated to put a damper
on the festivities
(the ant-ics are fascinating)
but spoiled the milk
and they
went away

see you next june

Introducing My Cats

I'm giving my three cats
their fifteen minutes of fame

above is Java
thirteen
very tender-hearted

afraid of strangers
and the vacuum

loves cheese
loves ice cream
loves his tummy scratched

this is Jax
four
affectionate and feisty

loves to groom me
and stretch out
on my outstretched legs

tries to flush the toilet
but so far
his paw slips off before the whoosh

mocha joe
thirteen
loves to sit in my lap
if its his choice

likes being scratched
between the ears
down to the neck

my faithful alarm clock
and furry soul buddy

Sleeping with Cats

last night I woke up around 2:00 a.m.

Mocha Joe was sleeping
in the crook of my arm
Java was curled on my chest
Jax was stretched out on my legs

and I had to pee

you know you're a sucker
when you lie awake
thinking about peeing
but don't want to disturb

the cats

so I lay there
knowing I'm an idiot
hoping to drift off
in spite of a screaming bladder
knowing all the while
I won't sleep until I pee

my cats are not
that considerate of me

they think:
she's reading
let's sit on her book
she's on the computer
let's park in front of the screen
she's taking a nap
let's play king of the human

and still
I lay there . . .

A (True) Note About Chimps

did you know that chimpanzees
have better short term memory
than you (and me)

especially the younger chimps

more a photographic mind
than the human abstract kind
like yours (and mine)

are digitally gifted

where man is more philosopher
chimps are photo processors
rapt (in fur)

Cat In My Lap

petting Mocha Joe
my hand is deep in the river of life
I see the rise and fall of tides
hear the slow streams purring

if my nose were keen as Joe's
I'd register tuna in the bowl
at the far end of my kitchen

But I smell
dark roast coffee brewing
and bite
into a moist blueberry scone