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 |  Blogging about all things poetry - starting with 30 days and 30 poems |
| March 13 Given that it is Friday the 13th, I have chosen a poem with a superstitious vein. Black cats are thought to be bad luck, but I don't believe that. Just like I don't believe that today is bad luck. In fact, today has been a pretty good day. I managed to get my writer's website up and launched. It still needs work, but I have moved into the realm of having a little piece of the internet for myself. Enjoy. Black Cat Rainer Maria Rilke - 1875-1926 A ghost, though invisible, still is like a place your sight can knock on, echoing; but here within this thick black pelt, your strongest gaze will be absorbed and utterly disappear: just as a raving madman, when nothing else can ease him, charges into his dark night howling, pounds on the padded wall, and feels the rage being taken in and pacified. She seems to hide all looks that have ever fallen into her, so that, like an audience, she can look them over, menacing and sullen, and curl to sleep with them. But all at once as if awakened, she turns her face to yours; and with a shock, you see yourself, tiny, inside the golden amber of her eyeballs suspended, like a prehistoric fly.    |
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