Moonbeams flicker through the fog
Conducting a quiet symphony
Of sighs and weary goodbyes
Last call
Lights out
Yawns stretch and silence falls
And with it the heads of lovers collapse onto shoulders
Dominos caving in on each other
Neatly origami folded figures flopped together like
overworked dolls retired to bedroom shelves.
Nestled and nooked, tucked and together
The containment of this company
Highlights my loose ends
My anxious domino chain
My carelessly crumpled paper
My messy room and barren shelves
This ever ticking
potential explosiveness of being

Scenes of Twenty: The Birthday

So, in other news…I turned twenty. And this is what happened. PS my cat’s name isn’t actually Yoda, but I wanted to change her name to ensure her privacy. Birthday stitched done

His Spectrum: Inspired by “November” by Max Richter


Kat Tale Thursday #1: 180 Degrees

Okay, I promise the Mother Abbess, “Climb Every Mountain” theme this week is unintentional…Anyways:

The lights dimmed on the boat as it swept silently through familiar waves. It was quieter than usual; most of us sat solitarily, at least a comfortable few seats apart. A lone couple was mashed together at the front, but other than that, we kept to ourselves, heading silently away from the action.

As the SeaBus pulled away from the harbor and the lights went down, the colors of the receding city brightened and bobbed steadily farther from our drift. Yet in our quiet darkness, lights began to streak and flash and tumble in the sky as the show we were missing found us in a different way.

The view was clear in the darkness, and the uncommon silence of the fireworks was at once calming and surreal. There were no boom’s or pre-warnings, no crackle of fading sparks; only a delightfully haunting feeling of visual madness without auditory ruckus. We had the beat seats in the house.

The thrill of such simple fascination caused a delighted smile to land on my face as the show danced across my eyes. All of us in the seats facing the back of the ship were in on the secret, grinning and gazing at the city, trying to soundlessly coax the strangers facing the front to turn around.

One man, in particular, happened to be just next to where I was looking out the window, and tried to uncomfortably ignore what he must have thought was a strange girl shamelessly staring at him. But my gaze coaxed him, begged him to turn and see what he was only 180 degrees away from.

Sparks flashed more intensely in the sky he had his back to, and in a burst of realization he turned just in time to see gold orbs pulse and drift noiselessly in the distance; a siren begging for attention, a hello to humanity.

It made me think. Maybe there’s more out there that we’re so close to, but just not noticing. Maybe all we’ve been searching for is what we’ve got our backs too. Sometimes there are goofy stares and fireworks that make you turn around, but most of the time we dismiss the signs. I mean, why crane your neck, why move from a comfortable position if you don’t have to?

But I realized, then, that even if the man had turned around to nothing more than black sky, he wouldn’t have been any worse off. In fact, he’d have been all the better for it. For only once we’ve turned in circles, stared up at the sky, and down to our feet; only once we’ve tilted ourselves sideways and searched all around can we move on knowing we’ve missed nothing.

The man turned back once more to face me with a smile on his face and a nod of understanding before he went to grab a seat facing the show.

Yep, it’s a funny thing this life. You never know what you are going to learn or see once you spin around a bit and shake off the dust. Just don’t forget to turn back and thank whoever helped you to see the beauty in seeing in a new light.

Just for context: The SeaBus

Some Days

This post is part of the “Blogging from A-Z April Challenge”! The “S” themed inspiration for today is “some days.” Enjoy!

Some Days

Some days

The orchestra finishes playing

The circus leaves town

The theatre empties

Clouds cover the stars

And in all the languages in the world

I cannot find one beautiful word

Or simply one I understand


Some days

I don’t want to deal with love

With it’s paperwork and taxes

How much to give

How much I should get back

When the ones I love don’t reciprocate

And my outward nonchalance seeps in

To save me


Some days

Stretch like holes in sentences

That hang unpunctuated


Like this rant in my head

A discrepancy of a locked in soul

I wait, holding these beating hearts

That I gamble all away for yours


It’s not how you should play the game


Some days

The rulebook tells me

To play without rules

Some days

I realize we make it all up

As we stumble along

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(No plans for T yet but let’s make it something a bit more optimistic, Kat, yes? 🙂 )


This post is part of the “Blogging from A-Z April Challenge”! The “R” themed inspiration for today is “reminder.” Enjoy!


Locked behind thick black doors
His words were painted into her breath
And like watercolor
Mixed and spread
Seeping through the faintest
Cracks in the gates
Escaping into blanched landscapes
Far beyond her reach
And she remained
Waiting for the strange new hue
To reach his skin and color him
With realization
That he had left her behind
Chained to his memory
While he walked free.

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This post is part of the “Blogging from A-Z April Challenge”! The “O” themed inspiration for today is “Olive.” (And up until about 5 minutes ago I was contemplating making it “Oh Shit”, as I had NOTHING planned.) But I’m clicking the “Publish” button now, seconds before running off to dance, so, enjoy!

I am lying on my back in bed. It’s cold out, and the heating is low in the house. My blanket lies twisted around me, contorted during some previous stage in the night when I had been asleep. I lie still with the unsettling feeling that there is a reason I have been woken, though the proof does not present itself. There is something different about the space I am in. I feel fine, if not tired. My eyes dart once more around the darkened room, past the window, past the mounds of peaceful dreamers tucked into identical beds, and all the way to the door that leads to the hallway. Soft light streams lazily in from the crack underneath it. I let my eyes close.

But I still feel that something has changed. I turn my head back to the window beside me. The curtain is half-open, and against the glass on the other side rests a small hand.

I shake the tangled sheets away from me and switch on the light beside my bed. I run to the window.

As I reach it, the hand flits away from the glass, and I stare out at the face it belongs to.

For a moment I think I have imagined it. The face in the window is mine. My dark hair spills around me, my hollow cheeks look ghostly in the night, my eyebrows furrow in lack of understanding. Just a reflection. A trick of the light.

But then the reflection’s eyes blink out of synch with mine, and catch the light of a lamp glowing on the other side of the glass. Her eyes are dark, but flash in the lamplight to reveal their true colour. Green. They stare back at me with mirrored confusion for just a second, and then, she turns and runs. The clanging of her lamp is muffled through the glass as she darts away, but it is a sound I hear in my head as I lie awake all night, until finally, in the early hours of the morning, my brown eyes close.

Olive. Her name is Olive.

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