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



Man sweeping debris  broom touches my knee

Eyes meet  its 33º    Tomorrow last day of Summer

Summer of high anxiety  scorching heat+humidity

He’s back at it   the sweeper   with dolorous eyes


Boots Landscaping & Maintenance  on tee    Don’t stand

so close to me   Smell of sperm trees  +rot  +squirrel droppings

Sweeperman sweats profusely  drips on my suede Sam Edelman

boots   Leaves a skull+crossbones stain


I weep + turn away   but not before he of the thick thumbs winks

Evil reaper of Summer’s deshabille    Summer when hope biopsied

found malignancy   Especially in Aleppo where children photo’d

with blood+white dust about their faces   Bodies rigid+zombie


Not Halloween for 40 days   Ditto Israelites wandering in exile   Now

we huddle haphazardly  waiting for the ice+snow already seeping into

Canadian bones    It’s in our DNA  eh?


The land of milk+honey 8 frozen months away   Walking on eggshells

for news of Gordie   On the eve of final  Hip concert  there was a full blown

rainbow    Full umbra over gnarly Toronto  promising happy endings

+remission   Only the meek know that the dawn is dusk backward   Don’t

wait for me



It’s Godot!  At last!  It’s Godot!  We’re saved! 


I begin to weary of this motif.


(Waiting for Godot  Samuel Beckett  1954  winner of Nobel Prize)







End of Summer of our Discontent

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