Notes for Woolf’s cat
The waves, she says, are moving,
one after another
Pursuing each other,
Perpetually.
Do you, too, pursue?
Just under the surface
and
Never quite caught.
Frantically cycling
after pink skies while they last
Run, the finger’s
getting
away
The uncaught catch
is that its doing it
just for the movement.
We’re running in circles
and chasing a god.
Just keep busy.
And perpetually we
chase light
Not knowing where it lies.
Dumb moths grow drunk on unknown whites.
Catch.
The waves, she says, are moving,
one after another
Pursuing each other,
Perpetually.
Do you, too, pursue?
Just under the surface
and
Never quite caught.
Frantically cycling
after pink skies while they last
Run, the finger’s
getting
away
The uncaught catch
is that its doing it
just for the movement.
We’re running in circles
and chasing a god.
Just keep busy.
And perpetually we
chase light
Not knowing where it lies.
Dumb moths grow drunk on unknown whites.
Catch.
