14 lines while waiting for the snowplows
— a poem by Rob Plath

i notice the black, exact outlining of my cat’s heart-shaped nose
i notice a lone, ruffled starling perched on one sturdy leg on a telephone wire
i notice three handmade pink valentines taped inside a neighbor’s bay window
i notice how beautiful icy rain sounds compared to the ticking of a clock
i notice how tree tops look like phantom nerve cells dissolving against the February sky
i notice how the erratic tapping of the radiators compliment the steady humming of the boiler
i notice the thumping upstairs when the landlord’s chow scratches himself
i notice Kafka’s darkness but more of his humor when reading The Trial
i notice how the paintbrushes lean together in the jar like a slim bouquet
i notice how forest green and cobalt reverse the blues inside of me
i notice how the fog bandages sharp edges in its lazy, gray gauze
i notice how falling icicles sound like tinkling piano keys
i notice how the rooms of my heart at last contain windows
i notice how noticing things is a way of loving

Rob Plath is a 43-year-old writer from New York. Allen Ginsberg once tutored him for two years before he died in 1997. He has published a lot in the small presses, including 8 chapbooks, three full-length collections and a play. Rob’s first novel is coming out this year. He is most noted for his infamous collection titled A Bellyful of Anarchy (epic rites press 2009.)