Following up on yesterday’s post, in honor of our beloved cat, Pinnicho,
here’s a portrait of the dear, furry creature and I, together.
Although he is semi-wild and spends the majority of his time outdoors, Pinnicho likes to come in for cuddles. In fact, the last set of eyes I saw last night were his —- as I was heading to bed, turning off the lights in the house, there he was standing outside the kitchen window, eyes glowing in the dark 👁 👁
Below, is a poem of mine for all animal lovers and those who have ever wondered what happens when their pets fall asleep:
What do animals dream?
Do they dream of past lives and unlived dreams
unspeakably human or unimaginably bestial?
Do they struggle to catch in their slumber
what is too slippery for the finge of day?
Are therere subtle nocturnal intimations
to illuminate their undreg hours?
Are theythey haunted by specters of regret
do they visit their dead in droatitude?
Or are t are they revisited by their crimes
transcribed in tantalizoglyphs?
Do they Do they retrace the outline of their wounds
or dream of transfinstead?
Do they tug at obstinate knots
inassimilable longings andrivings?*
Are there agitations, upheavals or mutinies
against their peror fate?*
Are they free of strengths and weaknesses peculiar
to horse, deer, bird, goor lion?*
*Are they lion?
Are they ever neither animal nor humd Being?*
*Do they d Being?
Do they have holy moments of understanding
*Do they ir entity?
Do they experience their existence more fully
*Do they akefulness?
Do they suspect, with poets, that all we see or seea dream?*
*Or is itthin a dream?
Or is it merely a small dying
a little taste of nothing mouths?*