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



A beautiful sun-browned  longhipster   Good bones   1/2 leg indigo

tatt    Wobbly kid drops biscuit onto grass  Mother in floppy straw

hat   It’s okay +hands it back   Our baby-bulldog laid up with beaver

fever from eating the grass   This is not a pristine field in Tobermory


Sparkly cardboard wolf  howls at the soon harvest moon   in the sky in

daytime   How did it come so soon?   2 yoga Goddesses  scrap+lick  upon

said grass   Downward dogs    Tongues flirt with beaver virus too    This is

not only  not a field in Tobermory  it is not a place you will find the Gangster

of Love   anytimesoon


I know a woman who has sworn off parks   She favours white peaches+believes in

empathy  At dinner last week she cried over Hitchbot’s demise   Vandalized beyond

repair in Philadelphia  I will not tell her that a hunkered-woman with snaky hair  just

queried: Can I talk to you?   NO    No?    NO     Now likely circling back  to bludgeon



Hitchbot: a Canadian social experiment designed to travel the world. It is immobile

+relies on the kindness of strangers. Recently spent a week in a heavy metal band

+had its portrait painted in the Netherlands. Final photos will not be released in

order to protect young fans. 



Autumn 2015 slouching toward Toronto  to be born




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