"It's about words, and words are all I have…"



In our parks the adulterers gather

First day out of dark cafés   They lean

on fences   french kiss


There  a couple so beautiful  my startle reflex

kicks in     She is so sweet it makes me sick  no wit  

not even a bit   Don’t know why I married the bitch     (paraphrase)


As silver-haired beauty strokes his pitted cheek

I picture wife somewhere   Spring chicken on

flowered table cloth    bottle of Chianti  eh?

Watch  as she shoves arsenic into cavity


I tell you   early Spring brings out the worst in me



It is March 1963   Black poodle & me   enter schoolyard

We frolic until a man begins to chase us with his car

I count to 3,000   and run for my life     Blackie often

dreams our secret   trembling in his sleep     And as

for me   well I remain  fearless & pristine      Except in  early Spring



balck poodle


N. Blacksonovitch  RIP  1963 – 1976 



SPRING   2014

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