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



A Fall wasp is rubbing himself on me   before I know it

sweet stinger will be under the skin of my left knee   Usually

no innocent bystander  I cannot say that I seduced Mr. Wasp

today   Here I lay sprawled under skybluesky  He sniffs me  & I

remind him of decomposing honeybun  he landed on   at noon


What will he get other than certain death   from stinging me?

A chance to ride a poet for a moment   + provoke ecstatic confessions


Now loud cursing from the rooftop  where sticky with honeygarlicsauce

I lay    All is strangely quiet  as blue turns to reddish purple    Summer

ebbing away     My 90 yr. old mother says: I think he has eyes for you

I’ll arm-wrestle you for him   I tell her   as I slap Mr. Wasp in an urban

girlfrenzy   now a yellow mush on the floor    In the city  aggression builds

as snow threatens    +  aging Canadians sing songs around campfires




End of Summer   2014

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