Puff poetry
In the literary realm, “ekphrastic” refers to poetry inspired by a visual image. In the Tabby’s Place realm, “ekphrastic” refers to everything we do at all times.
In the literary realm, “ekphrastic” refers to poetry inspired by a visual image. In the Tabby’s Place realm, “ekphrastic” refers to everything we do at all times.
It’s Thanksgiving at Tabby’s Place. It’s the fourth Thursday in November. These facts do not entirely overlap.
We come to the twilight of the year. Will we mourn the sun, or turn our chins up to the skylights? Will we lament leaves and lilies, or ascend the bare hills? In short: will we be humans, or will we be cats?
Are there things you must do before you can go through with being you? In order to start your day, do you require Apple Jacks in oat milk, or ten jumping jacks in front of the mirror, or a reminder that flowers return? Mae knows a thing or two about taking ornery mornings by the […]
Your life was astounding, but you knew all the answers. Your name meant “enlightened one,” but you wore it lightly.
‘Tis November, the month when cats understand us least. Why are we frittering away our lives reading clickbait like “47 Sentimental Snowmen For Hard-To-Shop-For Stepfathers” and “Sherpa Turtlenecks Your Boss Really Wants”? Why are we spending weeks preparing for poultry, when we could be eating it hourly? And what’s the deal with “giftable”?
There are appropriate contexts for gloves at Tabby’s Place: Conducting surgery. Cleaning (human) toilets. Performing Cabaret for Suite A. (Carrot appreciates jazz hands.) But handling jalapenos? Never.
Do you aspire to be spicy? Me, too. Do we know what that word really means? Habanero did.
Abandon all decorum, ye who enter here. This is Jerome‘s home, and we are but guests.