In the Cat’s Eye

Our neighbor's cat showed up at our door one day, and I let him in. We were strangers, but we soon became friends. We learned to trust each other. All of us have literal or figurative cats at our doors. We must choose whether to let them into our lives or send them away. Letting them in, whether they be cats or people, involves some risk. Relationships take time and work, and the willingness to commit part of oneself. It also involves the pain of loss, when those we let into our lives, leave. Part of what makes life interesting is the mystery. Each event, each stranger, teaches us a little more about ourselves and about our journey.

When the cat shows up at our door, it's an invitation to taste life. It's the chance to make the world more than the pictures on our TV, flipped on and off by remote control.

Our community of souls needs more participants and fewer spectators. We have been given a great gift and we need to learn to savor it. Open the door to life, and don't be afraid to laugh and cry. Look in the cat's eye and taste, touch, smell, listen and see what this beautiful planet can offer during our brief time here.



cemetary with flagAbraham's Mountain

Strangers gather here
On Memorial Day.
They plant little flags
Made in China.
Worn stones are decorated
To honor those
No one knew.
James (something)
New Hampshire 5th
Died December 1864.
Speakers are as stiff
As the cheaply-made flags.
Words borne on caissons
Are solemnly carried away
On a languid wind.
The war,
Started long ago,
Wages onward
In deeds and spirit.
Strangers fire their rifles
Into the air,
And hear only
The thin cry
Of a lonesome bugle.
Far away,
Invisible dominoes
Are still falling,
Like the ancient gravestones.



purple dandelionsPurple Hearts-1967

We lay in the summer,
Sheltered in tall grass.
Our resting place,
Not yet turned to straw.
She talked of futures,
In a world without one.
I watched a hawk circling above,
Seeking prey.

She was the sweet corn,
Picked fresh from the field,
Tasting of salt
And butter and sugar.
We passed the season
Pretending the winds
Would never grow colder,
The days never older.

We didn’t really say goodbye.
We just stopped saying hello.
I sold my car in the fall,
And packed away my childhood,
Burying part of myself.
She phoned one day,
Just before I shipped out.
She called me a bastard.


old train tracksRiding the Green Line

The Green Line rattled,
A snake winding through the jungle.
Riders lurched, trapped
In the belly of the beast.

Dry sparks filled the air,
Arcing through the darkness.
Saliva spit
From the serpents mouth.

Travelers, strapped to knapsacks,
Or wrapped in newspapers,
Huddled within themselves,
Listening to metallic screams.

Grit-filled eyes of the beast
Winked at caution lights
And stained station signs
Pinned to cavern walls.

It stopped to search for victims,
Then dove back into its cave,
A black hole turning light inward,
A mirror for the souls.

Riders stared at themselves
In the yellow glow,
Slowly disappearing,
Devoured by the Green Line.



Glenn Currie’s book blends the joy of life with some serious depths of insight. His juxtapositions of bright photography with equally vivid musings and metaphors are sometimes startling, sometimes consoling, but always memorable.
Rick Broussard, Editor New Hampshire Magazine

In the Cat’s Eye invites the reader on an introspective journey through life’s many phases. I felt a sense of calm awareness enticing me to live with adventure and embrace these creatures that show up at my door.
Julienne Turner Deception of Beauty

Glenn Currie brings his poet’s heart and artist’s eye together once again in this beautifully produced new collection. There’s magic in every glimpse and daydream.
Michael Herrmann Gibson’s Book Store