Purple Rhinoceros Bird
a surreal narrative poem about a poet cat.

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Page 3 of Purple Rhinoceros Bird

a Laugh the size of

the room. At first the

laugh still’d my Purr

and flatten’d my ears,

but as I watch’d it

Smile him, its rhythm

pick’d me up and we

roll’d the Nights to Dawn.

With a million

such moments gone,

I ventur’d in-

Mourning thinking,

"What Gift could I give

for his Kindness?

What Gift could a

Lost-n-Found Cat give?"

In a Muse-em

I look’d for Gifts

in Stranger Eyes

and Master Works.

All spoke NoThing but

none told where to find

the PurrEffect little thing, not

even Michaelangelo’s Wrists.

Numb - sat - vacant - staring at

all the NoThing, my Whiskers

sudden humm’d vibrant buzz and

I WindNimbl’d OutTo CutGrass.

The day float’d a myriad song

of Machine-Mad-Noise thub’d beneath

as Base with Cheer-Up’d Melodies

Pipt intricate over like Lace.

The PurrEffect

little Nothing

Occurred. A

Voice spoke Bite:

"Fool!

Pooh!

Lost!

Cat!

Cats Give

What Cats can Do

What Cats can Do

Ver’ Well."

I still’d, crouch’d

low, back flat

slinking

thinking.

"Birds.

Birds.

Birds."

That evening of Gold

Rain, wax’d whiskers,

dapper ears, and

a well lick’d clean coat

I Shadow’d to

Masters Gothic

Slave Built Manor

- Gift in Mouth - and

scree’d long

sleek nail

down steel-rust door

piercing the dark.

From the lived in room

I heard him rise

and come shuffling

in old-beat step.

This I felt odd

as his was usually

not swift, but light

and then it seem’d

heavy

with

Wordworth’s

world.

When the door open’d

I dash’d between his

legs as is Cat Custom

when bringing Gifts.

He follow’d my

absence of tail

- nub twitching

under chair -

speaking dead

Gargoyles,

"What?

What?"

and

"O!

Ver’

Well."

Sipping his bitter,

picking up a book,

he lay on a settee

and gave me his silence

Momma at Poppa’s

tombstone in my mind

spoke one of her

many Rhetoric Things:

"Hide way from Humans

They make all KnowSense

Even NonSense. All

hide way: all hide Way."

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