Cats, They’ll Watch You

By Isaac Sullivan

Cats, They’ll Watch You

and this cat came around pretty often
sometimes I saw it from a distance
and I’m pretty sure likewise for the cat seeing me

13346274_1053130208111957_6097064768526313120_oin the back garden where I was living
I’d be playing guitar in the sun and it’d hang, thought it was cool I guess
or I’d be smoking a smoke at night and all of the sudden –
I’d look over and see it sitting there watching me

like I’d even have headphones on, totally in my own world
kinda moving around listening to Like a Rolling Stone
the live version on Self Portrait
you know – shaking my head side to side
dancing, not caring that much about the cat
and it’d stealth its way out, again I’d notice it, looking at me

in the end I wouldn’t know what the hell it thought about who I was
I couldn’t stop everything I was doing
I just had to carry on
I just had to go my own way when the time’d come

Illustration by Sofia Nikitaki


A dream steps in

By Alexandria Somirs

A dream steps in,
And breathes right out,

Once inside, the haze spills over,

It pulls me in, like a thunder roll.

I run, I charge

I grab what clothes,

To hold me over.

From the fire that hides just under,

From the ice that soars just over,

From the danger that still sleeps in,

From the day that still lies by.

I grow weary from breathing in,

Stepping in, is a face that smiles,

But it’s a mask that day slips on.

And it’s the night that takes it off.

A dream steps in,
And breaths right out.

Painting by Salvador Dalí

How can I pick the days of anger out of a field of happiness?

By Alexandria Somirs

Animosity’s repression dug a hole,

 I’m quite sure,

 And soon there, took residence, a contentable mole.

He lived there quite happily,

The earth above pounded with distracted footsteps,

Too quick, too impatient to let live small similes.

And down below his dependable nose,

He felt the humid silence, from where questions were posed.

“Of all the seeds that were bedded,

Of which were of anger?”

Animosity answered, “the seeds of which were buried the deepest,

The ones least likely to flower,

The ones most likely to sour,

And spoil the earth of their weeded source,

And set the field afire with their selfish course.”

Satisfied, the mole posed another question.

“Of all the seeds that were bedded,

Of which were of happiness?”

Animosity answered, “The seeds that lie on the surface, the ones I’ve not bedded,

The ones least likely to stay content in the earth and lie,

The ones most likely to shoot up to the sky,

The ones that bloom with the sun,

And feel lighter than an elephant ton.

Photo by Alexandria Somirs