Quietly with sly energy,

it circles a black hole

in this jungled universe.


feral mind feline creeping

pauses in pursuit, too ready

to nap another day away.


Oh this mind like the attic, bearer

of all rejects: artwork, furniture,

broken toys, cobwebs, dust motes

claim stale air.


Emotion is turned off, more a leaky pipe

for some replacement part

now on backorder, while the mind


Remains confused, eschews

uncorked sadness, challenges

action, the what if and what is

as it appears in the present.


The cat’s tail like an antenna picks up

a mouse dead behind the old

sewing machine table, stalks its remains


Through a packed jungle of unwanted

leftovers; none show rhyme nor reason.

Could that mind, more likely instinct


Than feelings lie among that pile

of castoffs already in play

between two large cat paws?


by Lee Landau


This poet writes with raw honesty about family events, those dysfunctional backstories. She shelters emotion from the snowy winters of Minnesota that spark her imagination. She writes about obsessions, both large and small that tumble through her poems. Publications include BlueStockings Magazine at Brown University, Wisconsin Review, Breath and Shadow, Avalon Literary Review, Tipton Poetry Journal, Ice Box Journal, Rockhurst Review, Vending Machine Press, The Monarch Review, Else Where Lit.

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