( via / me )

Wildcat.

"Cancer Surgery

Squeak squeak...
   where?
middle-of-the-night

fenced by steel rails,
tethered to a pouch

   light
   knifes under the door

   squeak        GLARE

      the nurse's shoes

Dark again.
Red digits blink: morphine drip.
Chest a gauzy snowpatch, itchy with tape.
A silver balloon sways on the updraft--
messenger from some festivity
too far to imagine, ocean-trench creature
bobbing dopily
where goggle-eyed fish ghost by.

How did I land here,
shot down like a migrating bird
who had other latitudes in mind?"

--Elise Partridge

"At the height of my Minimal Kitty obsession (and it was an obsession — I sprayed that stencil on everything and started making a deck of Minimal Kitty tarot cards), I was also riding a skateboard and wearing an eye-patch, which was idiotic because I had no depth perception and kept hitting things."

Pareidolia is a hell of a drug.

Can only be Nabokov.