SIX POEMS by CATALINA BLAKE
Alone at the top of the plateau
The fool is lost in the mountain
new dawns, he is to find, do not
always bring new meanings. But, for a man
who has nothing to loose and
everything to gain,
the clarity of his misstep
is to be his
Ascension
The woodsman toils
the baker bakes
the sparrows congregate to
watch it all unfold
“man,” they say, “was born free”
a common misconception
the common man is starved to death
one way or another
starved of sleep,
of food,
starved of esoteric ambition
soul blind yet
spirit bound, every man is
the common man,
no matter his wealth, health or insight
the king is lonely
It’s what we all have to fear
They clog the streets, the sidewalks, the hiking trails
they come in packs of 1, 2 and sometimes by the dozen
they don't know why they do it
I don't either
their bath soap is brand name, their car the latest model
they drone from here to work,
and back again,
humbled by Christ
gliding through the fog of the hair salon
bargain shoes
maxed out credit cards
a yearly cruise, all included
the boring and the insane wander
they are aimless, caught in adrift
its hard not to get swept up with 'em
Newspaper closet
Once when I was a child, I heard a man in the downstairs closet
He was there all the time, but especially when I was home
alone
latch key kid, I was home all the time
He liked to read the newspapers that papered the walls in the old closet
The house was from 1812. He was older.
I never saw him, but knew he was there and could hear his old fingers shuffling,
between pages
his old bones creaking from exhaustion
That's a long time to stand in the closet, I thought
He never came out and no one else knew he was there, but I could
hear him reminiscing about old town parades
deals at defunct shoe stores
obits
Spiteful child, I tore it all down.
When My mother asked me why, I didn't have much of answer for her
How do you tell someone that?
Later that night, the strumming of an an old guitar was heard
ruminating through the walls and
No one believed me then, either
Off the beaten track of isolation
The distance between
the buildings is wider
than you think and
some just don't connect or touch
or know about each other at all
my windows face the street and
I see you all, moving
to and from, with wreaths
or hand tools, but you are
like the brown buildings around me
I cannot touch you, I can
only see and I see
others who are only allowed to do
the same
The seed eaters
It’s taken me a few times to get this
exactly right and
under the foregoing circumstances you are
probably wondering what to do
Computers have replaced workers in some places
virtual realestate is a thing
When a place to live isn’t
Yesterday I watched a starling try to
forcibly evict
a couple of homely little seed eaters from
the family home
It started with 2 against 1
until the smaller seed eater called out
steam in cold air
and the collectors
far
and
wide
came and the starling, who was at least
three times their size was out manned and
over powered
He will have to take the home of another
but not my little seed eaters
The vicious cycle will begin again, some day
somewhere
maybe now
So, if you’re still wondering what to do, try
to find the answer
the next time you talk to the seed eaters
who know enough to have a home
and a place to live
at the same time
they could be telling the Truth
I could never eat a snake
they spend so much time slithering from here
to god and back again
They rip through puddles
dripping water over long shiny bodies
they hide behind rocks and sometimes in garbage cans
they furl and bend
spy and report
they sleep all day and distort
god’s plan of world domination
Sometimes they laugh, although I've never heard it
sometimes they philosophize the purpose
or their single length state
sometimes they lie,
sometimes they don't
To tell you the truth, they are a bit too “man” for me
Catalina Blake was born in the 1992nd year of the Common Era and grew up in the Pacific Northwest, where she learned how to hypnotize frogs and get to the apples at the top of the tree. When she's not busy writing presumptuous poetry (which her mother does not understand), Catalina likes searching for found materials, chance meetings and watching the birds tease the neighbor's cat. Catalina now lives in sunny Central Oregon with her husband, 2 dogs and 4 cats.